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]o. 107] APPLETONS’ 

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HANGING MOSS 


By PAUL LINDAU 

Author of “^Lace” 





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D. APPLETON & CO., Publishers, New York. 



HANGING MOSS 


PAUL 'a^INDAU 

AUTHOR OF LACE 


TRANSLATED FROM THE GERMAN 

By winchester AYER and HELEN FOLGER 

• 0 

V 

\ 





'> 0 ^' 26 1892 ) 

X 


NEW YORK 

D. APPLETON AND COMPANY 

1892 






Copyright, 1892, 

By D. APPLETON AND COMPANY. 


Electrotyped and Printed 
AT THE Appleton Press, U. S. A 


HANGING MOSS. 


CHAPTER I. 

Felix Welsheim was the architect of his own 
fortunes. Of this fact he was very proud, and to 
all who wished to hear his story, and to many who 
did not, he was fond of relating how in the mad 
year of 1848, when only a lad of fifteen years, he had 
come to the great city of Berlin, his shoes ragged 
and torn, and his only capital six good groschen ; 
how he began his business career as errand-boy 
in the house of E. Tillmann & Sons, an old-estab- 
lished firm held in high respect in the business 
world. At that time the head of the house was 
Ewald Tillmann, the grandson of the founder of 
the firm, which had sustained its honourable repu- 
tation since the end of the previous century. 

The worthy Tillmann took a fancy to Felix, 
and recognised in him an active and wide-awake 
boy. As an experiment he gave him a commis- 


4 


HANGING MOSS. 


sion far exceeding the demands usually made up- 
on an errand-boy, and, when this was fulfilled to 
his entire satisfaction, he called Felix into his of- 
fice one morning and informed him that he would 
take him into the business as an apprentice, con- 
tinuing his salary as a special favour — under the 
condition that no one in the office should hear of 
it. Ten years later Mr. Tillmann was able to 
send his protegi to the Exchange to transact busi- 
ness for the house, and Felix Welsheim showed 
such a decided business talent, operated with such 
prudence and success, not only for his employer 
but also for himself, that four years later, when 
Tillmann angrily reproached him one day with 
speculating on his own responsibility, and of hav- 
ing culpably used to his own advantage a business 
secret divulged to him in strictest confidence, Fe- 
lix assumed an air of most righteous indignation, 
and broke off all connection with his benefactor 
on the spot. 

He had long waited for this day. In the early 
part of the year 1858 his name appeared in the 
Commercial Register as the head of a banking 
and commission business. Fortune favoured all 
his important undertakings. 

In midsummer of 1866, at the breaking out of 
the Austro-Prussian War, when a temporary de- 


HANGING MOSS. 


5 


pression occurred in all securities, he stretched his 
credit to the utmost, so as to speculate largely in 
real estate — with brilliant success. Felix Wels- 
heim was now looked upon as a man of means, 
but in reality he was much richer than people sup- 
posed. He gave up his cosy, modest dwelling in 
the Krausen Strasse and hired an apartment on 
the first floor of a fine new building in the Victoria 
Strasse. None of his friends and acquaintances 
supposed for a moment that he would lead his 
solitary bachelor life for any length of time in his 
new quarters, and the supposition that he was on 
the lookout for a wife was confirmed when he be- 
gan gradually to withdraw from all convivialities 
at the Linden Restaurant, and to break off his 
connection with a third-rate actress from a fourth- 
rate theatre, with whom he had often been seen, 
and when in the following winter he made his 
appearance at all the fashionable affairs. 

‘‘ Welsheim is coming,” the hostess would whis- 
per meaningly to the mothers of marriageable 
daughters, certain of producing a pleasant impres- 
sion by this announcement. 

But the winter went by, and spring and sum- 
mer, and Welsheim had not yet found among the 
daughters of the land the fair one he sought. At 
last, in the autumn, he met a young girl at Scar- 


6 


HANGING MOSS. 


borough who pleased him exceedingly, and to 
whom he paid most assiduous court. 

She was Miss Leonie Delponte, of Holland 
birth but Portuguese descent, and. the daughter 
of a well-to-do merchant of Amsterdam. She was 
now twenty years old, and her mother had care- 
fully instilled into her mind the necessity of mak- 
ing a brilliant marriage. For the last three years 
she had been taken to the fashionable baths, to che 
Riviera, and to Paris; and nothing in the way of 
display had been omitted in order to capture the 
expectant millionaire or nobleman of ancient 
family — but till now without avail. For some 
time a distinct feeling of uneasiness had seized 
both mother and daughter, and accordingly, when 
Felix Welsheim approached the Delponte family 
he received an exceptionally gracious reception. 
As Mrs. Delponte perceived that the young Ger- 
man banker would undoubtedly propose to her 
Leonie within the next few days, she wired at once 
to her husband in Amsterdam to make thorough 
inquiries in Berlin. The result was gratifying, 
and Leonie received permission to accept Mr. 
Welsheim’s wooing with correctly lowered lids, 
and blushingly to refer him to mamma at the 
proper time. The affair took its regular course. 
At the beginning of October, 1868, the engage- 


HANGING MOSS. 


7 

ment of Miss Leonie Delponte to Mr. Felix Wels- 
heim was announced. 

In the middle of December the wedding took 
place, and at the end of January, 1869, the young 
couple, having spent their honeymoon in Cannes 
and Nice, came to Berlin. 

Leonie made no little stir in Berlin society. 
She was undoubtedly, if not the loveliest, certain- 
ly one of the most elegant and piquant, of all the 
young women of the capital. Her small head, 
with its heavy dark hair, was finely set ; her 
shoulders, her neck, her arms, roused the admira- 
tion of the men, and consequently the envy of the 
women. She dressed witft a certain originality, 
yet simply and in perfect good taste. But her 
greatest charm lay in her remarkable eyes. They 
were neither excessively large nor even beautiful, 
but there was a singular questioning look in their 
depths ; their fleeting, far-away glance lighted for 
an instant on persons and things, then passed 
quickly on and seemed to lose itself in empty 
air. 

Leonie was something of a coquette. She was 
'"a brilliant conversationalist, and, as she upheld the 
most daring opinions with astonishing boldness, 
she soon earned the reputation of a clever woman. 
She talked with the assurance of a queen on all 


8 


HANGING MOSS. 


subjects, possible and impossible, and invariably 
said the opposite of what others said. 

Unsuccessful plays she found charming, works 
of art which made a sensation she declared to be 
bungling atrocities, and in the perpetrator of some 
most brutal deed who met his just deserts she 
pitied the martyr to social prejudice. 

Leonie unquestionably possessed one great ad- 
vantage over the women who were her social 
equals. She was more broad-minded. She had 
seen and heard more and knew better how to 
adopt that charming unaffectedness in social in- 
tercourse than did most of her kind. At the time 
when Berlin was still in swaddling clothes, Leonie 
was one of the few, perhaps the only one, who had 
known how to draw a circle about her which 
bore some resemblance to the cosmopolitan salon. 
With an inborn tact, fostered by good training, 
she knew how to establish a delightful unanimity 
between the widely varied elements accustomed to 
meet at her house informally on Tuesday evenings. 

Each young man, whether he belonged to the 
diplomatic corps or the army, or was wedded to 
literature or art, or played a part in commerce or 
on the Exchange, imagined himself to be specially 
favoured by his charming hostess, and believed 
with some reason that he dared read, in a quickly 


HANGING MOSS. 


9 

intercepted glance of those dreamy eyes, some- 
thing like an assent to an unspoken question. 

During the Franco-Prussian War Welsheim had 
trebled his fortune. He was now one of the no- 
table figures on the Berlin Exchange. His inti- 
macy with people who were in the position to be 
well informed on the political situation was well 
known, and when he held forth on the great topics 
of the day he was always surrounded by a crowd 
of eager listeners. On these occasions he assumed 
an air of great importance, wrinkled his forehead 
into deep lines, thrust his hands in his pockets, and 
slowly tilted backwards and forwards on his heels 
and toes. It was not necessary for his jokes to be 
good, for them to go the rounds during business 
hours and to take their way later up the Burg- 
strasse, to the Thiergarten. In a word, Welsheim 
had become an important man in the financial 
world. Beginners felt flattered when he spoke to 
them, and he himself looked down with smiling 
superiority upon old Tillmann, whom he had long 
ago outstripped. 

This important and dictatorial man in his busi- 
ness circle shrank to a mere nonentity in his own 
household. Leonie had never looked up to him, 
and it seemed perfectly natural to her that she 
should rule him. She alone settled all important 


lO 


HANGING MOSS. 


and unimportant questions, without brooking any 
attempt at interference, and much less any opposi- 
tion. She decided the sending out of invitations 
and the acceptance or refusal of those, received, 
the theatre night, the summer resort, the house- 
hold arrangements. Felix had no voice in the 
matter. At times, when he was puzzled, and 
meekly asked an explanation with a certain help- 
lessness which was in ludicrous contrast to the 
self-assured manner of the business man, she 
laughingly cut short any further discussion with 
the words, “Mon ami, cela ne te regaj;de pas” — 
for in such cases Leonie was always in the habit of 
using French. 

Among the young men who never failed to ap- 
pear regularly every Tuesday at Mrs. Welsheim’s 
receptions, the young author. Dr. Hugo Hall, 
seemed most to please the taste of his hostess. 
Dr. Hall was first introduced to Welsheim in 1872. 
At that time the young author was twenty-nine 
years old. He had originally gone deeply into 
the natural sciences, botany in particular. The 
success of a little volume of poems had induced 
him to put aside his studies and to devote himself 
entirely to literature. He enjoyed the reputation 
of possessing unusual talent — genius, in fact — al- 
though he had as yet done nothing to deserve this 


HANGING MOSS. 


II 


reputation. The sketches which he had published 
made some sensation on account of their bizarre^ 
paradoxical form, but they affected one like the 
tortured utterances of a morbid mind. But those 
who believed in Hall’s greatness attached little 
importance to these trifles. They declared that 
Hall had other arrows in his quiver, and the world 
would be amazed when he launched them. Dr. 
Hall’s prospective work, about which none could 
tell whether it was to be written in prose or poetry, 
was to be a novel or a drama, was already famous 
before a line was written. 

Mrs. Welsheim had done more than any one 
else to produce this impression. The author’s 
prospective fame was not a little advanced by his 
personality. Hall was indeed a striking-looking 
man — tall, broad-shouldered, easy and graceful in 
his bearing. He had more the appearance of a 
southerner. He wore his hair and soft brown 
beard closely clipped. The smooth, high arched 
forehead inclosed no ordinary intellect. The 
finely shaped mouth, with the full lips, betrayed a 
sensuous nature. The big brown eyes changed 
expression constantly as he talked, and made an 
eloquent commentary on his words. Hall pleased 
all women, and unless all signs were at fault, 
Leonie in particular. He was quite aware of the 


12 


HANGING MOSS. 


pleasing impression he produced on the weaker 
sex, and was openly anxious to retain ^this power. 
Although things went none too well with him, and 
he was tormented with constant money troubles, 
he spent as much on his clothes as the best-known 
men of the world. As soon as he found himself 
in the society of women he took up any rdle occa- 
sion required, and his mobile face assumed to order 
the expression of the deep thinker, the pessimist, 
the desperate flirt, or the utter fool. 

At their first meeting, Leonie had made an un- 
usual impression upon him, and she herself — who 
was accustomed to strengthen each young man in 
the delusion that she favoured him above all 
others, and was more attracted to him than she 
ought to be — had taken a more lively interest 
in Hugo Hall's melancholy and yet passionate 
eyes than she was willing to admit even to her- 
self. 

After the first unavoidable trivialities of a new 
acquaintance they had scarcely spoken together 
five minutes when they discovered simultaneously 
that they were equally skilled opponents in the 
subtle art of drawing-room skirmishing. Both 
had the instinctive feeling that their acquaintance 
would not be limited to a mere superficial bandy- 
ing of words ; that an unseen power was forcing 


HANGING MOSS. 


13 


them fatally towards each other, and both recoiled 
before it. Both were exasperated at each other 
without any apparent cause. 

Leonie, who only made malicious remarks 
about people when they were absent, was espe- 
cially charming towards all her guests. But it 
seemed an impossibility for her to say a single 
friendly word to Hugo. She was cutting, sarcas^ 
tic, almost rude. Hugo, though spoiled by kind- 
ness, was not in the least discomposed by such 
treatment. He acted as though he had expected 
it, and seemed to find it quite in the order of 
things. He only attracted the young woman all 
the more by his coolness and feigned indifference. 
She was seriously provoked, and left him with in- 
tentional rudeness. ^‘You are really too young 
and not yet famous enough to smile in such a supe- 
rior way,” she said, as her blue eyes scanned his, 
Then she turned her back upon him, and, slowly 
fanning herself, went towards a group of chatter- 
ing guests. In their midst she soon recovered her 
tone of charming affal)ility. Although she appar- 
ently took no further notice of the author whom 
she had snubbed so ungraciously, she thought of 
no one but him, and he alone in the crowded rooms 
seemed a living being to her; all others were but 
as shadows and phantoms. And when for a time 


14 


HANGING MOSS. 


she lost sight of him, and reflected that he had 
taken his departure without bidding ' her good 
night, a strange uneasiness came over her. She 
abruptly broke off the conversation in which she 
was taking part, pleading the duties of a hostess, 
and went in search of him. 

Hugo had intended slipping quietly out of the 
house whose mistress had been so provokingly un- 
civil to him, but he had stayed, for stay he must. 
He had persuaded himself that he could not afford 
Mrs. Welsheim the triumph of having driven him 
from the field at the first encounter. But, in truth, 
triumph or defeat had nothing to do with it. He 
felt himself held in Leonie’s presence ; whether 
she treated him well or ill it mattered not, the 
principal thing was that he was near her, could see 
her and hear her. He saw how all faces bright- 
ened, as if by the reflection of her peculiar charm, 
when she approached the various groups with her 
bewitching smile. He admired the beautiful, slen- 
der figure, the loveliness of the rounded throat 
and the dazzling neck, and the wonderful mass of 
soft dark hair with its little coquettish curls, and 
he quite forgot that he bore any grudge against 
Leonie herself. He was filled with a longing to 
be more to her than other men ; he had also a cer- 
tain proud premonition of success. 


HANGING MOSS. 


15 


Just then he noticed that Leonie was advancing 
through the rooms with that peculiar smile and ad- 
dress which conveys an unspoken desire not to be 
detained in conversation, and was letting her gaze 
wander slowly and systematically through the 
rooms. She had not yet seen him in the shadow of 
a recess behind a tall mass of flowers, and he still 
had time to assume the position and to take on the 
expression which seemed the most effective and 
fitting. He decided 6n a careless, languid air of 
superiority and an expression of unruffled calm. 
Suddenly she caught sight of him. Their eyes 
met only for the immeasurable space of a second, 
but both stood transfixed, with throbbing hearts. 
Then she passed on, serene and smiling, as before, 
and said to a young lady who stood near her: 
“ Where did you get those lovely gardenias ? I 
shall certainly change my florist. For six months 
he has sent me nothing but miserable things on 
wires ! " The lady gave her her florist’s address, 
recommending him highly. Leonie thanked her 
with effusion. She had not heard a word. As if 
she could think of gardenias and flowers on wires, 
or any other way, at this moment ! She did not 
speak one word to Hugo Hall. 

Only, as he came to take leave of her, one 

of the last guests, towards two in the morn- 
2 


i6 


HANGING MOSS. 


ing, she said, and this time with unfeigned friend- 
liness : 

“We shall see you soon again ? ” 

“ As soon as you will permit me — next Tues- 
day, if it will not be too presumptuous.” 

“ Oh, that is much too long a time to wait ! By 
that time the opinion that you must have of me 
will be too firmly rooted, and I am anxious that 
you should learn to know me better.” 

“ I already think the very best of you, but of 
course it would be the greatest honour and pleas- 
ure to me—” 

“ Are you engaged for to - morrow even- 
ing ? ” 

“ If I may to-morrow, no.” 

“ Then come to the theatre with us. There has 
been so much said in favour of the new play. 
Liedke, Ehrhartt, and old Doering must be very 
fine. Have you seen the premilre ? ” 

“ No, not yet.” 

“ Then 1 may count on you ? I will send you 
the ticket to-morrow noon. We shall be alone — 
with my husband — ” 

“You are too kind. Until to-morrow, then — ” 

“Until to-morrow — ” 

She held out her hand from which she had been 
drawing her glove as they talked. He raised the 


HANGING MOSS. 


17 

slender fingers to his lips, and respectfully took 
his leave. 

When, soon after, the last guest had left, and 
Welsheim wished his wife good night, kissing her 
on the forehead, Leonie said : 

“ I want a box for the theatre to-morrow night.” 
Welsheim looked up in astonishment. 

“ Why, this morning when I asked you, you 
said — ” 

“This morning I had no desire for one, but 
now I wish it, dear Felix.” 

“ But, my dear child, it will be very difficult. 
Since last night’s success, every seat in the house 
has been taken — ” 

“ You will find ways and means,” smiled Leonie. 
“ I have the utmost confidence in you.” 

“ I will do all I can, but I cannot promise.” 

“I have no fear. I have heard so much about 
the play to-day — ” ^ 

“ Yes, yes; I will do all I can.” 

“ By the way,” said Leonie carelessly, already 
turned towards the door, “ the young doctor whom 
Ringstetter brought here, the author— what is his 
name ? ” 

“ Dr. Hall.” 

“Yes. I have asked Dr. Hall to go with us. 
You know his address, and you will have the kind- 


i8 


HANGING MOSS. 


ness to send him the ticket in the* course of the 
afternoon. Good night again.” 

The following day, at the Exchange, Welsheim 
secured a box at three times its value, and sent the 
ticket to Dr. Hugo 'Hall, at Mrs. Councillor Bren- 
er’s, Brtider Strasse. 


CHAPTER II. 


Six months had passed since that evening 
which Leonie Welsheim and Hugo Hall — with the 
obliging co-operation of Mr. Felix Welsheim — had 
spent together at the theatre. It was in April of 
1873 that Dr. Ringstetter, the equally malicious 
and clever retailer of all unpleasant stories, told 
Mrs. Welsheim that her young prot^gd was only 
awaiting the success of his play on which he had 
been working assiduously since his acquaintance 
with Leonie, to marry hi^ landlady’s daughter, a 
Miss Martha Breuer, to whom he had been en- 
gaged for over a year. 

Louis had at first taken the intelligence as a 
somewhat tasteless joke. But Ringstetter gave 
such a mass of details, which seemed so thoroughly 
credible, that she could no longer doubt the truth 
of the startling news. She affected an extrava- 
gant gaiety, found the story too amusing, too 
ridiculous, and laughed so violently that Ring- 
stetter’s suspicions regarding the intimacy which 


20 


HANGING MOSS. 


had arisen between the two were considerably 
strengthened. 

She asked indifferently about the young girl — 
but not indifferently enough to deceive the sharp- 
sighted Ringstetter — and learned that her name 
was Martha Breuer ; that she was the daughter of 
a Mrs. Councillor Breuer, n^e Tillmann, a poor 
widow who eked out her scanty pension by tak- 
ing lodgers, and even then had scarcely enough 
to provide herself and her sickly child with the 
bare necessaries of life. Hugo Hall had already 
lived more than five years at Mrs. Breuer’s. The 
pale Martha, with her great blue eyes of unnatural 
brilliancy, and her transparent skin through which 
the veins in the temples could be plainly seen, had 
touched and charmed him. He had passed many 
hours in the widow’s small sitting-room, had read 
his poems to Martha, who had listened to his words 
with glowing eyes, and, without his being able to 
say exactly how he had come to do it, he had asked 
for Martha’s hand, and had afterwards persuaded 
himself that he was in love with her. 

Martha had been no less surprised at the offer 
than he was at making it. Brought up from 
childhood in suffering and poverty, she had lived 
quietly and hopelessly within herself ; it had never 
occurred to her that she was a woman who might 


HANGING MOSS. 


21 


be loved. She had almost no associates, she had 
never been wooed, and when she incidentally heard 
a remark concerning this or that young man, she 
only smiled, for she had nothing to say. She sel- 
dom left her mother, who continually bemoaned a 
needy widow’s sad lot and the injustice of fortune, 
and she secretly worked, as far as her strength 
permitted, for a large embroidery firm, to add a 
few groschen to her mother’s slender income. She 
considered herself utterly unattractive — without 
reason ; for she was a simple, modest, lovable 
child, even a very pretty girl when one looked at 
her more closely. But one had to look at her very 
closely — even her beauty was modest and retiring. 
The wealth of beautiful blonde hair,' which seemed 
to suck up the greater parir of the delicate girl’s 
strength, was scarcely to be seen to advantage in 
its simple arrangement. Only when she laughed — 
and her laugh came seldom — did one see the 
brilliant white teeth. She was of middle height, 
thin, and at eighteen was still undeveloped as a 
child. It was some time before it became clear to 
her what Dr. Hall — who until then had been to her 
only the tenant of the large room — meant by his 
proposal. When the first long kiss which Hugo 
pressed on her small mouth brought enlighten- 
ment — the first kiss, which she returned with closed 


22 


HANGING MOSS. 


eyes, and which burned on her delicate lips, and 
then left them cold as ice — a feeling of unspeak- 
able content came over her. It was as though 
spring had burst forth in her heart, as if, of a 
sudden, her pure womanhood were freed from its 
prison. She felt herself a woman, and clung in 
passionate tenderness and grateful love to the 
man who had revealed to her the most marvellous 
secret of life. The sweet purity, the complete 
surrender of the girl had touched Hugo deeply. 
He imagined that by a kindly dispensation of Fate 
he had unwittingly found the woman destined for 
him — whom he loved, or would learn to love. And 
so the first part of the betrothal was bright and 
sunny. Martha was transformed. Her languid, 
tired manner had gained in life and precision, 
her pale cheeks were slightly flushed. She had 
become brighter and stronger. Hugo worked 
with more eagerness than formerly. He now had 
a goal before his eyes. He felt that he had under- 
taken serious duties, and it was his faithful en- 
deavour to fulfil these duties. 

Winter came. It was easy for Hugo to explain to 
his affianced wife, who believed him blindly, that as 
a writer who had chosen the modern life of a great 
city as his particular study, he must go into society, 
no matter, as he asserted, how much it bored him. 


HANGING MOSS. 


23 


It was equally a matter of course that Martha, 
whose very sober, modest attire taxed her mother’s 
inventive genius to the utmost, did not accompany 
him. 

She stayed at homjg without a murmur, and 
smiled after him when he took leave of her in his 
dress suit and white tie which became him so well. 
Sometimes, indeed, a secret longing arose in her to 
share in some of the brilliant entertainments which, 
it seemed to her, Hugo spoke of altogether too con- 
temptuously. But she was sensible enough to see 
that she longed for an impossibility. She com- 
forted herself with the reflection that, when Hugo 
earned the well-deserved reward of his talents, 
everything would be different. She would wait 
patiently — yes, patiently. ^It must indeed be diffi- 
cult to learn the life and ways of the favoured 
world in which her lover moved. 

Hugo’s social duties constantly increased. He 
went out every evening, and did not return until 
late. She always heard him come in, heard the 
street door open and shut, and the turning of the 
key in the hall door. 

Not until then did she sleep— often with a 
heavy heart.' But when he came in so late, why 
did Hugo invariably give, unasked, an earlier hour 
than the true one? Out of regard for her, of 


HANGING MOSS. 


24 

course. He was so kind ! And she needed some 
consideration now. For the fleeting roses which 
the spring-time of love had driven to her cheeks, 
the weary, sleepless nights had long since withered. 
Martha looked ghastly pale now, and the dark 
circles under her strangely brilliant eyes made 
them unnaturally large. 

By mutual consent there was little said about 
the engagement. As circumstances did not as yet 
admit of their appearing together in public, the 
announcement would only lead to annoyance and 
troublesome questions. Hugo was plainly right : 
what did the indifferent world need to know of 
their happiness ? 

But as a secret is difficult to keep, one and an- 
other had discovered that Hugo had already dis- 
posed of his hand and heart. He never mentioned 
it, however, and no one was sufficiently intimate 
with him to warrant speaking of it without invi- 
tation. His conduct in society would not have 
caused the keenest to suspect any engagement. 
He acted in the freest, most unhampered manner 
possible towards the pretty girls, and especially 
towards the prettiest young married women. Since 
he had been drawn into Mrs. Welsheim’s most in- 
timate circle, such a suspicion seemed improbable 
in the extreme. 


HANGING MOSS. 


25 


Till now, Leonie, indeed, had suspected noth- 
ing, When Ringstetter told her the startling news, 
an entirely new sensation came over her, and she 
felt as though she had been plunged into a bath 
of icy water. A painful embarrassment forced 
her to lower her lids, in spite of her clear, high 
laughter. And when Ringstetter had taken his 
leave and she was alone, her face grew distorted 
and she suddenly looked ten years older. She took 
a few hasty steps and touched the bell. Her 
first impulse was to put on her hat, order the car- 
riage, and seek the girl. That the story was true 
she had no doubt. It explained all that had been 
inexplicable before : Hugo’s sudden depression in 
the midst of the wildest spirits, his aversion to 
showing himself with her in public, his ambiguous 
words — in fact, all. She must see the girl, she 
must tell her — what must she, yes, what could she 
tell her ? How could she explain the extraordb 
nary and compromising visit to her and to him ? 

“ It is nothing,” she said to the servant, who 
had appeared in the doorway. 

John bowed and disappeared. Leonie seated 
herself on the low divan in the bow window and 
gazed through the delicate curtains at the grey 
branches, just beginning to take on a tinge of 
green. The blithe afternoon sunshine accorded 


26 


HANGING MOSS. 


ill with her gloomy mood. She breathed so fast 
and sighed so heavily that she was frightened at 
herself. 

Everything that had passed between them now 
came up before her — since their first meeting 
and since the fateful night at the theatre, when 
she had felt his arm, which rested on the back 
of her chair, warm against her shoulder, and 
yet had made no effort to change her position. 
She regretted that on that same evening she had 
answered his long, meaning pressure of the hand 
at parting, with one equally fervent and full of 
promise, and had trembled visibly, although she 
had managed to remain calm without any very 
great effort. She had not only suffered Hugo to 
remain in her presence, but had drawn him to her. 
She had not trifled with him in any merely super- 
ficial way as she did with others, but had plainly 
shown him that her feelings towards him were 
something far deeper. She had given him the 
right to reproach her for her coquetry, she had 
allowed him with evident pleasure to dictate to 
her, and had followed his wishes in treating this 
one or that of her friends with marked coldness, 
and avoiding their houses. She had taken advan- 
tage of his jealousy with a strange gladness, and 
allowed him to torment himself without cause. 


HANGING MOSS. 


27 


To be sure, she was at fault, but he was the more 
guilty. If he really loved her, her alone, he would 
have given up everything for her. But how could 
she now believe, him any longer — he, who for half 
a year had approached her with a lie, or rather, a 
concealed truth ; who had said to another, and 
must still be saying, what he unceasingly said to 
her by the longing glance of his dark eyes, by 
the pressure of his hand, bjrhis low sighs, with his 
entire being ? There was a woman whom he 
might take in his arms and kiss before God and 
the whole world. 

She felt a flame of colour dyeing her cheeks. 
She was beside herself — not from anger alone. 
She had a feeling of the ^deepest shame and hu- 
miliation that his heart should be disputed with 
her by such a person. It was plainly some a\:- 
complished coquette who had drawn him into her 
net. What sort of a woman would she be, to 
quietly submit to this degrading situation ? 

Leonie threw open the window and let the pure 
fresh breeze rush into the room where the fire 
was still burning. 

Her brain was confused and agitated, and the 
cool air did her good. In vain she had tried to 
come to some decision as to what attitude she 
should take towards Hugo. The wisest course 


28 


HANGING MOSS. 


would be simply to ignore the matter. But she 
told herself that it would be beyond her to carry 
out such a farce. Should she make a scene and 
break off with him on the spot ? Should she 
slight him and gradually alienate him ? Should 
she go to extremes and give him the alternative 
of choosing between that other woman and her ; 
and, as the price of the sacrifice which her jealousy 
demanded, grant him what he required unceas- 
ingly, and what, up till now, she had refused 
him ? 

All seemed equally impossible to her, but most 
impossible of all that things should remain on 
their old footing between her and Hugo. They 
must now be forcibly driven apart, or irrevocably 
brought together. 

' Leonie shivered with cold and closed the win- 
dow. She was startled when she looked at the 
clock and found that an hour had passed since 
Ringstetter’s departure. In any case it was now 
too late to go out. Welsheim had probably 
already come home, and dinner would be an- 
nounced in half an hour. 

She did not know what to do with herself. 
She went mechanically to her dressing-room and 
looked over her spring wardrobe which had just 
come from Paris. The most striking toilet suited 


HANGING MOSS. 


29 

her taste at that moment. She summoned her 
maid Germaine, whom she had brought with her 
from Holland, and told her she wished to be 
dressed for dinner. > 

“ Is there company, then ? ” asked Germaine, 
whom Leonie not only allowed to speak without 
being spoken to, but also ask questions on her 
own account. 

“ No ! ” answered Leonie with a sharpness that 
astonished the girl. 

“ But it is a shame to put that on for the 
master alone,” objected Germaine. 

** I wish to wear it ! Do as I say,” answered 
Leonie, even more brusquely than-before. 

‘‘As madame wishes,” peplied Germaine sub- 
missively. 

After a time, W'hile her skilled hands were 
adjusting the wonderful Worth creation to the 
slender figure, she added dejectedly : 

“ Madame is angry at something. Is madame 
displeased ? Madame looks quite worn out.” 

Welsheim had had a particularly good day on 
’change, and was in high spirits. 

“ Ah ! ” he exclaimed in admiration as Leonie 
rustled into the room in her light dress, “ that 
suits me. Really charming ! Ah, those French- 
men — if wc were only as far advanced ! Let me 


30 


HANGING MOSS. 


take a good look at you; the soup won’t get 
cold so quickly — ” 

“Come, please,” said Leonie, who had already 
approached the dining-room door. 

“ In honour of the new gown,” began Welsheim, 
as he resumed the conversation at the dinner- 
table, “ we ought to go out somewhere. It is 
really too good for me alone.” 

Leonie had to smile involuntarily at the recol- 
lection that Germaine had used precisely the same 
words half an hour before. 

“ As you please,” she answered with feigned 
indifference. She had firmly resolved to allow 
herself to be persuaded by her husband to spend 
the evening in Hall’s society. She thought it best 
for a thousand reasons that her first meeting with 
Hugo should take place under the restraint which 
her husband’s presence imposed. At the same 
time she was consumed with the desire to see the 
girl that very day. She felt that only her husband 
could help her to gain her end in a natural man- 
ner. She did not know at the moment exactly 
how it should be brought about, but she had great 
faith in her well-exercised faculty of imputing to 
Welsheim the wishes that were really her own. 
Her gaze wandered restlessly from one object to 
another. 


HANGING MOSS. 


31 


‘‘Shall we go to some theatre ? No? Very- 
well. The circus? Also no? Ah, I have it! 
Now I think of it, there is a good programme 
at the Reichshalle — wonderful American gymnasts, 
a singer from Vienna, as pretty as a picture, a 
jolly pantomime. What do you think ? I will 
send and get a box — we will take a couple of 
friends — ” 

“ Two ? ’’ 

“Well, or only one — just as you please — Dr. 
Hall, for instance — " 

Leonie raised her eyebrows. 

“Why not? ” continued Felix, and he added in 
a different tone: “I don’t understand you, my 
dear Leonie. For some time you have been 
pointedly cold towards our poor doctor. No, no, 
don’t deny it ! I have good eyes and nothing 
escapes me. You hurt the poor man. He ad- 
mires you greatly. You may believe me. Be a 
little more friendly towards him. It is easy for 
you to do so, and you will be gratifying a fine 
fellow.” 

“You are mistaken. I have nothing at all 
against the doctor.” 

“ Then you are more ungracious than you in^ 
tend to be.” 

“ That may be.” 

3 


32 


HANGING MOSS. 


“ But, to speak plainly, it is very disagreeable 
to me. I like Hall, and I should be very sorry 
if you should drive him away by your rudeness, 
which in all probability is quite unintentional. 
You see, others who were so much at home with 
us formerly have not been pleased at your treat- 
ment, and have finally kept away — nice men too, 
whom you used to like well enough. You are 
really too hard on them — ” 

Leonie shrugged her shoulders. 

“ I will prove to you the opposite,” she said 
languidly. “ As far as I am concerned, let us go 
to the Reichshalle, and let us call for the doctor if 
you are so bent upon it. We can wait outside for 
him, in the carriage.” Without giving her hus- 
band time to remark that it had never occurred to 
him to call for the doctor, she continued : 

“ To be sure, it is somewhat extraordinary for 
us to call for a young bachelor at his lodgings. 
But I am not prejudiced; and as you wish it — I 
cannot show the doctor more plainly that I have 
nothing against him ; I hope you will be satisfied 
now — ” 

“To be sure, to be sure!” answered Felix, 
somewhat uncertainly, while he replaced on the 
table the glass from which he had been drinking, 
and raised jiis napkin to his lips. Had he then 


HANGING MOSS. 


33 


really made the suggestion to Leonie that they 
should pick up Dr. Hall ? He could not remember 
at all, but it suited him, and, as Leonie was willing, 

he turned to the servant : 

/ 

“ The landau at half-past seven.” 

When Leonie appeared in the drawing-room at 
the appointed hour, thoughtfully buttoning her 
gloves, she said to Welsheim, who already awaited 
her, opera glasses in hand : 

“We had better drive directly to the Reichs- 
halle. John can give the invitation to the doctor 
in our name.” 

“ But no ! ” answered Welsheim somewhat im- 
patiently, “ it is too late for that. Good God ! 
don’t be so prudish. The th'ing is perfectly proper 
— in my company.” 

“ As you please. Does Dr. Hall live well ?/’ 

“I have never been to his lodgings.” 

“ Look about you a little while you are there. 
It would interest me to catch a glimpse of an 
author’s workshop. One can never judge a man 
fairly until one has seen how he lives.” 

“ He probably lives as most young men 
live—” 

“ That is a point upon which I certainly cannot 
contradict you — that the artist’s studio and the 
writer’s study are something different from a 


34 


HANGING MOSS. 


dandy’s apartments. It is, as you very truly said, 
a sort of museum, a neutral ground — ” 

“ To be sure,” assented Welsheim, somewhat 
surprised — he had no recollection of ever having 
made such a remark — ‘‘to be sure, like a muse- 
um — 

“But allow me, Felix,” gaily interrupted Le- 
onie, who had mastered the last button, while she 
took Welsheim’s arm and urged him to greater 
haste. “The accusation of prudery which you 
just made against me can hardly fit if I should 
dare to enter the lion’s den. He will certainly not 
tear me to pieces. I have a strong support in you, 
my natural protector — ” 

“ What do you mean ? ” They had reached the 
house door. 

“ Bruder Strasse, to Dr. Hall’s,” Felix gave 
orders to the waiting footman, who, after touching 
his hat and carefully closing the carriage door, 
mounted to his seat and took his place beside the 
pompous coachman. 

“ Of course, it would amuse me,” Leonie went 
on, as the carriage rolled swiftly and noiselessly on 
its rubber tires through the streets of the city, “ to 
rout up the good doctor in his den. Personally I 
have as little feeling about it as you have. But I 
don’t know what people — ” 


HANGING MOSS. 


35 

‘‘You are thinking of going in with me?'* 
asked Welsheim in new astonishment. 

“ If it would amuse you I would willingly risk 
it," answered Leonie with her bewitching smile, 
while she laid her small hand on his, fingering it 
caressingly. “ You shall not reproach me a sec- 
ond time with being too prudish — in your compa- 
ny—" 

“ It seems to me perfectly natural that you 
should come with me to get an intimate friend. I 
was only afraid that we might embarrass the doc- 
tor if we should come upon him unexpectedly." 

“ It would be a fine joke ! " laughed Leonie 
gaily. “You occasionally have brilliant inspira- 
tions ! Wouldn’t the docfor be surprised if he 
saw us before him all at once ? What could have 
brought such a radiant vision to his hut ! — for you 
cannot have failed to observe that I have made 
myself especially beautiful to-night." 

“ To be sure," answered Felix, with a smile of 
self - satisfaction, as his eyes wandered lovingly 
over the toilet which had already delighted him, 
“you have really surpassed yourself this even- 
ing." 

“ But with no regard for the doctor," she smiled, 
that I swear to you. Now you must not declare, 
after all, that I have put on my most interesting 


HANGING MOSS. 


36 

gown and most coquettish hat for Hall’s sake — 
you ingrate ! ” 

You really look wonderfully well ! ” exclaimed 
Felix tenderly, and raised the small hand which 
still rested on his to his lips. 

‘‘ I promise myself a wonderful sensation,” con- 
tinued Leonie in the same sprightly way, “ when 
we enter the doctor’s room, hand in hand — ” 

“ So you are really in earnest ? — you wish to 
go with me to — ” 

“ I wish ? ” broke in Leonie, “ I wish ? ” she re- 
peated ; but you are confusing our rdles^ my dear. 
If you have the least scruple — I can remain 
quietly outside in the carriage — ” 

“You misunderstand me. I have no scruples.” 

“I should prefer to remain below. I simply 
did not wish to spoil your joke. But if you think 
that people — ” 

“ Pshaw ! People ! What nonsense ! A wom- 
an — ” 

“Very well.” She pressed his hand and they 
looked at each other, smiling. Leonie was rejoic- 
ing that she had accomplished her desire to visit 
Hugo’s house that very day, and Welsheim rejoiced 
over his charming, sprightly wife, and was con- 
vinced that he had persuaded her to take the doc- 
tor by surprise. 


HANGING MOSS. 


37 


The carriage stopped before a cheerless house 
in the old street. Leonie and Felix entered. The 
stairs were imperfectly lighted by a flickering gas 
jet, which flared up in a three-pronged flame. The 
steps were worn. The landings of each separate 
floor formed a narrow, almost rectangular tri- 
angle. On each side of the triangle was a glass 
door painted white, whose panes were hung with 
cheap curtains. The house was neat and clean, 
but poor in the extreme. On the second floor on 
the right, under the porcelain bell-handle, was a 
porcelain plate, bearing in large black letters, 
E. Breuer ” ; below was tacked a small visiting- 
card on which could be read, Dr. Hugo Hall.” 

Welsheim rang the bell. In a moment a door 
inside the house was opened and the curtain 
drawn back a little. There was a short, embar- 
rassed pause. Leonie’s heart beat violently ; she 
needed all her strength of will to preserve her 
composure. The outside door was slowly opened, 
and on the threshold appeared a young girl, 
ghastly pale in the disadvantageous light, with 
smooth blonde hair of extraordinary thickness, 
whose weight seemed to drag back the small head. 
Her eyes were large and bright. She wore a plain 
dark woollen dress, and a neat little apron trimmed 
with crocheted lace. Leonie let her glance flash 


38 


HANGING MOSS. 


over the feeble girl in feverish haste, and she bit 
her lips to prevent a smile. Martha experienced 
a very uncomfortable feeling at the sight of this 
beautiful, well-dressed woman, who involuntarily 
had assumed a haughty manner. Leonie, who had 
drawn a very different picture of Hugo’s fiancde^ 
now found the pitiful, insignificant girl simply 
laughable. 

“ Is Dr. Hall at home ? ” asked Welsheim, at 
the same time giving Martha his card. 

“ I think so. Will you kindly walk in ? ” 

I will wait here,” Leonie said to her husband. 
“ You can see whether the doctor will receive me.” 

“ If you will be content with our little sitting- 
room, madame — it is really too uncomfortable 
here.” 

“You are very kind, my dear young lady,” 
Leonie answered, bowing slightly. 

She followed the young girl into the back 
room and sat down on the chair Martha offered 
her. Welsheim remained standing in the half- 
lighted, narrow, winding corridor. Martha re- 
joined him immediately, knocked on the door of 
the front room, and entered in response to the 
“ Come in ” from within. Directly afterwards Hugo 
appeared, and cried out in a resonant voice that 
sounded almost too loud : “ Is it possible ! This 


Hanging moss. 


39 

is a surprise ! Pray, come in. What has brought 
me this unlooked-for pleasure ? ” 

The door was closed again. Only the murmur 
of voices could be heard, but no words were dis- 
tinguishable. 

Leonie took a hasty survey of the meagre 
room. There was not much to see. Well-pre- 
served pieces of furniture, which had not been 
handsome even in their younger days ; a sofa and 
two arm-chairs upholstered in green reps and pro- 
tected by crocheted tidies ; on the table, the bright- 
coloured cover of which lay neatly folded upon 
the closed piano, was spread a table-cloth with 
places set for two ; in the centre, by the kerosene 
lamp, a small platter of cold meat, a butter-dish, a 
bread-basket, and a bottle of Tivoli beer ; on the 
wall an engraving of the “ Madonna della Sedia"; 
beneath, the pictures of the Emperor, the Crown 
Prince, Bismarck, and Moltke ; above the piano a 
lithograph of Beethoven; hanging book-shelves, 
with a dozen or two books in cloth bindings, over a 
small, decrepit desk ; near the window, a flower- 
stand with an India-rubber plant, cheap flowers 
from the market, and a globe of gold-fish ; near by, 
a sewing-table, against which leaned an embroidery 
frame. Leonie was not disturbed in her hasty 
survey of these humble details, for the widow was 


40 


HANGING MOSS. 


busy in the kitchen, heating the water for the tea. 
Leonie’s lips parted in a curious smile, a mixture 
of pity and contempt. 

“ And this is living ! ” she said, with a slow nod, 
and, raising her eyebrows, she asked the porten- 
tous question, “to what purpose?” 

Just then Martha entered the room. The same 
feeling of embarrassment seized her again when 
she came into Leonie’s presence, and inhaled the 
sensuous, overpowering perfume of the gardenias 
which she wore at her breast. Without looking up, 
she knew that Leonie was regarding her with, one 
might almost say, uncivil scrutiny. At first it was 
painful, then it became almost sinister, and with a 
certain superstitious dread she raised her lashes 
and turned the quiet, steady gaze of her great, 
shining eyes upon the stranger. She was well- 
nigh terrified as she met Leonie’s sharp, penetrat- 
ing look. In those small, restless eyes, with their 
dilating pupils, lay something distinctly hostile. 
An inexplicable foreboding, which had almost the 
significance of a warning, told Martha that this 
beautiful woman would bring her unhappiness and 
work her lasting harm. She shrank back involun- 
tarily and busied herself unnecessarily with the 
table-cover which lay upon the piano, thus ena- 
bling her to turn her back to Leonie. 


HANGING MOSS. 


41 

Neither spoke a word, and both breathed au- 
dibly, their lips tightly compressed. 

Happily, this painful interview only lasted a 
few moments, but they seemed to Martha quite 
long enough. Hugo hastily opened the door and 
entered, exclaiming in a loud tone, as though to 
cover his embarrassment : 

<‘This is really very kind of you, my dear 
madame. Your husband has just told me — If 
you do not fear a bachelor’s modest and somewhat 
disorderly apartments — May I beg — ? " 

He offered Leonie his arm. 

But you must not look about you,” he added, 
as he left the room with Leonie and without a 
glance at Martha, and closed the door behind 
him. 

Martha went to the door and looked after them 
as at some strange sight. She remained standing 
there, and there she still stood when her mother 
came out of the kitchen with the teapot. 

Hugo has visitors — a gentleman and lady.” 

<< A lady ?” Mrs. Breuer asked in astonishment; 
who is it ? ” 

I do not know her. I did not read the name 
on the card which the gentleman, who seems to be 
her husband, gave me. I think it is Mrs. Wels- 


heim.” 


42 


HANGING MOSS. 


“Is that the rich banker of whom Hugo has 
spoken so often ? ” 

“ Yes.” 

“ How did you come to think of him ? ” 

“ I don’t know. I just imagined it.” 

“I wasn’t even aware that Mr. Welsheim was 
married.” 

“ But Hugo once spoke of a Mrs. Welsheim, and 
he was very much embarrassed at it. He has 
never spoken of her since. I think it is Mrs. 
Welsheim.” 

“ Well, we shall find out later. Now sit down. 
The tea has steeped long enough.” 

“I am quite sure it is Mrs. Welsheim,” Martha 
repeated, as she took her place opposite her moth- 
er. She had become very pale, but two red spots 
burned on either hollow cheek. She scarcely 
touched the food before her. 

As Leonie entered the spacious study, she was 
seized with a spirit of mischief. She exulted in 
having gained her end. She was secretly amused 
at being treated by Hugo with conventional polite- 
ness before Martha, and she considered it a good 
joke that he did not venture to give his fiancee 
even a look in her presence. Exultation over this 
easy victory drowned all other feeling for the mo- 
ment. She banished all thought of care, and she 


HANGING MOSS. 


43 

was in an almost cheerful frame of mind as she 
walked through Hugo’s room with critical glances. 

So this is the way a writer and scholar lives,” 
she said, with a smile. 

It was a room with double windows, directly in 
front of one of which stood a broad study-table. 
A tall bookcase of polished wood occupied the 
whole of the opposite wall ; the rest of the furni- 
ture was plain but not poor. The door of the 
little sleeping-room adjoining was closed. The 
bookcase was filled for the most part with pam- 
phlets arranged in systematic order upon the four 
upper shelves. On the two lower shelves were dis- 
posed the belongings that recalled Hugo’s earlier 
scientific pursuits : here stood a microscope, there 
lay botanical magazines and collections of dried 
plants. At each corner there had been some at- 
tempt at decoration : at the right, a bunch of beau- 
tiful pampas grass, whose creamy-coloured plumes 
with glints of gold had become ashy grey from 
dust and cigar-smoke ; at the left, a strange plant 
growth hung down to the floor from a height al- 
most that of a man — a strange, crinkled, tangled 
moss, softly waving, and of a dull-green tint, pro- 
ducing a melancholy and yet graceful effect, like a 
widow’s veil. 

^‘What is that?” Leonie asked, cautiously 


44 


HANGING MOSS. 


touching the meshes here and there with her small 
gloved fingers. 

The uninitiated call it ‘ hanging moss.’ The 
botanical name is Tillandsia usneoidesy 

It is very pretty. Where does it grow ? ” 

“ In the southern part of the United States and 
in Mexico. It is very beautiful from an artistic 
standpoint, but a fatal adornment to the trees, 
especially to the oaks and cedars, for it inva- 
riably destroys the trees to which it attaches 
itself.” 

Then it is a parasite ? ” 

“ Not exactly that. But you may safely call 
it so. In order to correctly describe the nature 
of the Tillandsia to you, I should have to deliver a 
lecture that would hardly interest you — ” 

On the contrary, it would interest me very 
much.” 

“ Well, I will make it as short as possible. We 
botanists give t]m name of parasite, in its true 
meaning, to those plants which sink their own 
roots into the fibre of the foster-plant and get 
their nourishment from the other’s life. The 
Tillandsia does not do this. It grows only upon 
the surface, without penetrating into the fibre. 
The Tillandsia^ the rank, luxuriant moss, which 
you see there, deprives the tree of light and air. 


HANGING MOSS. 


45 

or the carbon which nourishes it, thus stifling and 
starving it.” 

How strange ! And does the tree die ? ” 

“Yes, the tree dies, but the Tillandsia has a 
tenacious life and continues to grow luxuriantly 
upon the dead trunk. Each little portion of the 
moss that is torn away by the wind is borne to 
another tree and remains fixed there, again spreads 
until it has covered everything with its meshes, 
and deprives that tree, too, of light and air. But 
the trees from which this beautiful veil of moss 
floats have a really wonderful appearance, mag- 
nificent in their gradual death. The Tillandsia 
itself, which destroys them, provides them with 
their shroud.” 

“ It is strange what uniformity there is in 
Nature.” 

“ It would be stranger if it were otherwise. 
Life is the same everywhere — a constant fight for 
existence, the repulse of hostile attacks, the over- 
coming of another’s power; this constant struggle, 
attack, defence, resisting and succumbing, is car- 
ried on everywhere, only under different circum- 
stances. It is the same with man as it is with ani- 
mal and vegetable life, and it is undoubtedly only 
because we are not clear-sighted enough that we 
cannot see the same thing in the mineral world.” 


46 


HANGING MOSS. 


“Yes, yes, that may well be,” interrupted 
Welsheim, who began to find the conversation 
tiresome, and thought of the horses below and the 
programme at the Reichshalle, “But we have 
something more to say to you. We were going to 
see the pantomime at the Reichshalle — won’t you 
come with us ? I have taken a box. Our carriage 
is waiting.” 

“ Certainly — with pleasure — thanks very much. 
One moment.” 

“How many seats are there in the box?” 
asked Leonie. 

“ Six, I think. Why do you ask ?” 

“Just an idea — ” and turning to Hugo, who 
had started for the other room to fetch his hat 
and coat, she said in a careless tone : “ Who was 
that pretty young girl who opened the door for 
us and received me so pleasantly ? ” 

Hugo felt himself growing white. He had 
feared this question, and had therefore hastened 
his departure, but now that it had come it was 
almost a relief. 

“ Miss Martha Breuer,” he answered quietly. 
“ The daughter of Mrs. Breuer, with whom I have 
boarded for many years.” 

“ A nice little thing. Does not the association 
with such an attractive young girl sometimes 


HANGING MOSS. 


47 

become a little — how shall I put it? — a little 
dangerous to you ? " 

Most certainly not, my dear madame. Sooner 
or later I shall be able to tell you why not. 
Meanwhile I have special reasons for begging 
you not to insist upon any further explanation. 
Would you mind waiting a moment, please? I 
only want to get my hat.’* 

“ Well, go and get it.” 

As soon as Leonie was alone with Felix she 
whispered to him hastily : The poor little thing 
looked so sad and depressed — you ought to ask 
her and her mother to come with us. We have 
room enough, surely.” 

Before Welsheim, for whom Leonie had pre- 
pared surprise after surprise, could answer, Hugo 
entered, hat in hand and his overcoat over his arm. 

** I am ready.” 

My wife thinks,” Welsheim began — but 
stopped abruptly as he felt Leonie’s angry gaze 
directed towards him — “ that is, the idea is really 
mine, but my wife agrees with me. I thought it 
would give Miss Martha pleasure, and Mrs. Breuer 
too, of course. We have plenty of room in the 
box, and in case there should not be room enough 
in the carriage, I could take a cab at the Schloss 
Platz.” 


4 


48 


HANGING MOSS. 


Hugo had listened in bewilderment. An invi- 
tation for Martha and her mother ! He saw 
through it all. Leonie had learned in what re- 
lation he stood to Martha, and was anxious to 
get a nearer view of his fiancee ; therefore this 
unexpected visit which Welsheim, so clever in 
other respects, but, in matters which concerned 
his wife, childish and blinded, had made possible. 
“ Now I must be careful to make the right move, 
so as not to get into any further trouble,’’ said 
Hugo to himself, and with a forced smile he re- 
marked aloud : “ You are really too kind. If you 
will allow me I will make you acquainted at once. 
I hope that the ladies will accept your exceed- 
ingly kind invitation.” 

He not only hoped the opposite, he was sure 
of it. 

The three stepped out into the narrow corri- 
dor. Hugo opened the door of the back room in 
response to the “ Come in ” which his knock 
brought forth, and said, while on the threshold : 

‘‘ Have you ladies finished supper ? So much 
the better. I wanted to make you acquainted 
— Mr. and Mrs. Welsheim; Mrs. Breuer, Miss 
Breuer.” 

As they bowed formally, Hugo proceeded: 

We intend going to the Reichshalle. Mr. Weis- 


HANGING MOSS. 


49 

heim has a box. We are now but three — the rest 
I must leave to Mr. Welsheim.” 

“ Pardon me, ladies, if I take the liberty — ” 
Welsheim began somewhat hesitatingly, “ but I 
thought the friends of our friend — it is said to be 
really very pretty in the Reichshalle, and if you 
ladies could anticipate any pleasure in the per- 
formance, we would be very happy, my wife and I, 
if you would pass the evening with us in our box, 
quite sans gene y 

“We should be very happy,” Leonie said in her 
musical voice, in order to fill in the embarrassing 
pause that followed. 

Mrs. Breuer looked at her daughter, upon whose 
pale cheeks the red spots burned like fire, and 
answered : 

“ We are deeply indebted to you, and we fully 
appreciate your kindness — my daughter and I — but 
you must see we are so illy prepared for the theatre 
that we must decline, though with real regret.” 

“ On account of your dress ? ” Leonie asked, 
brightly ; “ but you surely know that no one makes 
any display there. I happen to be too much 
dressed. You are in proper attire, not I. If I 
seem overdressed, I will drive home. In ten min- 
utes I can have my gown changed. I can come 
half an hour later. It is a trifling matter.” 


50 


HANGING MOSS. 


“ I really do not know how to thank you, 
but we really cannot go — Is it not so, Mar- 
tha ? " 

Martha did not give the assent her mother ex- 
pected. Her heart contracted with a strange pain ; 
something icy cold nearly took away her breath. 
Her nostrils quivered, her tongue was dry, and 
there was a bitter taste in her mouth. Her breast 
rose and fell. She ached in every limb. She felt 
plainly, ‘^This is the woman who will steal my 
happiness from me.” She was jealous to the verge 
of madness. But it gave her an incomprehensible 
pleasure to revel in her pain, to sharpen the pangs 
she suffered. She understood Leonie’s desire and 
shared it. 

To her mother’s, and to Hugo’s still greater 
surprise, she answered : 

“ I must confess it would give me great pleasure; 
and since Mr. and Mrs. Welsheim are so very kind, 
if you will allow me I will accept the invitation. 
Of course, it is not at all necessary that Mrs. Wels- 
heim should first drive home. You must take me 
just as I am.” 

Martha and Leonie at the same instant threw 
a hasty side glance at Hugo. In this moment a 
certain unanimity existed between the two rivals. 
It gave them both a malicious delight to witness 


HANGING MOSS. 


51 

Hugo’s painful embarrassment, which, with all his 
self-control, he could not wholly master. 

“ But you look very charming indeed,” Leonie 
said encouragingly, in the comfortable conscious- 
ness of her own superiority. 

“If it will give you so much pleasure, I am 
perfectly willing that you should go,” the widow 
replied. “ But Mr. and Mrs. Welsheim must excuse 
me, I really cannot go.” 

“ What a pity ! ” Leonie exclaimed. “ But you 
may trust your daughter to us without the slightest 
fear. Of course, we will see that she reaches home 
safely.” 

Martha hurried away to the room next the 
kitchen, where she and her mother slept. She laid 
aside her apron, put on her hat without even a 
look in the glass, and drew on a jacket which she 
had bought at a bargain, a garment which made 
an attempt at elegance. She knew that in out- 
ward appearance she could not enter into competi- 
tion with Leonie. She did not even wish to look 
at herself, for the contrast was too great. If she 
could not be beautiful as Leonie, she would not be 
beautiful at all. She only wanted to be tolerated. 

“ I am so glad for the child,” Mrs. Breuer said, 
when Martha had left the room. “ She goes out 
so little.” 


52 


HANGING MOSS. 


Hugo had immediately recognised the difficulty 
of the situation ; he felt that he must do some- 
thing to simplify matters, and, turning to Leonie, 
he said with a smile : 

“ You do not know under what deep obligations 
you put me by your friendliness towards Miss 
Martha. I will tell you, although we had agreed 
not to mention it as yet — but otherwise many 
things might appear a little strange to you — 
Well, you may congratulate me — I have been en- 
gaged for some time to Miss Breuer.” 

“Is it possible!” Welsheim exclaimed, “and 
your best friends discover it only by chance ! ” 
He shook Hugo’s hand energetically. Donner- 
wetter ! but you know how to keep a secret, old 
fellow. I wish you every happiness, with my 
whole heart. It gives me the greatest pleasure, I 
assure you — the greatest pleasure.” 

He let go of Hugo’s hand at last, and turned 
to the widow, who in the mean time had exchanged 
a silent, perfunctory smile and shake of the hand 
with Leonie. 

“ You will also permit me, Mrs. Breuer ? I am 
delighted to hear it.” 

“You know, my dear doctor,” Leonie said, 
“ that we take the most sincere interest in your 
happiness.” 


HANGING MOSS. 


53 


He took the little hand she held out to him, 
and pressed it, but with more fervour than one 
usually shows in response to a congratulation, as 
though he would say : Do not doubt me ; I will 
explain everything ; it remains the same between 
us as of old.” And Leonie answered his petition, 
and pressed her finger-tips so deeply into the 
palm of his hand that he plainly felt the nails 
under the suede gloves. It was the first step 
towards a double sin. 

“ Here comes the little fiam^e already,” cried 
Welsheim as Martha entered. Yes, my dear Miss 
Breuer, we know all about it. You gain a worthy, 
clever, talented husband. We know our doctor 
well. We are his best friends. I am really de- 
lighted.— And if we are half an hour late to-night, 
my dear Mrs. Breuer, or an hour, you must not be 
alarmed. Your daughter is in good hands. We 
cannot let this opportunity pass without drinking 
to the health of the two young people.” 

« The fiancU of our friend Dr. Hall may be 
sure of my best wishes. I congratulate you sin- 
cerely, and hope that you will soon feel at home 
with us.” 

Leonie spoke with a hypocritical smile, and 
reached Martha the hand that was still warm from 
the treachery to her. 


54 


HANGING MOSS. 


Martha plainly felt the lie that accompanied 
the hand-shake ; her great, glistening eyes fixed 
themselves revengefully and reproachfully upon 
Leonie, and her voice was hoarse and trembling 
as she answered with a forced smile, “ I am very 
grateful to you, Mrs. Welsheim.” 

“ But now, pardon me if I remind you that we 
must be going,” Welsheim broke in. “ Why, it is 
already a quarter past eight ! ” he proceeded, after a 
glance at his watch. “ If we want to see anything 
at all, we must make haste.” 

The four took leave of the widow, who called 
after them, “ Don’t be too late ! ” whereupon 
Welsheim, who had already reached the first floor, 
laughingly answered, “ To-night we are responsi- 
ble for nothing”; and ten minutes later they took 
their places in the box — Welsheim behind Martha, 
Hall behind Leonie. 


CHAPTER III. 


Of the four inmates of the box, one only was 
interested in what was going on upon the stage; 
that was Welsheim. The three others had some- 
thing very different to attend to. 

It would have been hard to conceive a greater 
contrast than existed between the two women who 
sat in the front of the box. Leonie was radiant in 
her brilliant toilet ; she felt thoroughly at home, 
and, with the confidence acquired by habit, she 
scanned the house through her opera glasses, solely 
to convince herself as to whether she could be 
seen by any one she knew. She seemed to be sat- 
isfied : she saw only strange faces. 

By the side of the brilliant society woman, Mar- 
tha appeared awkward and shy, like a frightened 
governess who had been taken along from com- 
passion or pity. While Leonie bent forward in a 
careless attitude and leaned her elbows upon the bal- 
ustrade, holding her opera glasses to her eyes with 
her perfectly gloved hand, Martha sat as straight 


HANGING MOSS. 


56 

upon her chair as a school-girl upon the bench, and 
had laid her hands upon her lap, for she had noticed 
that the dark-brown gloves which had seen good 
service had taken on a suspiciously light shade at 
the finger-tips. Her neighbour’s magnificent gown 
touched her old, dark woollen dress. As hateful 
as the sight was to her, she could not help admir- 
ing the costliness of the material and the beautiful 
harmonious shades. Sighing softly, she raised her 
eyes, and a feeling of envy came over her as she 
watched the woman sitting by her in well-bred 
carelessness — the rich mantle, which had slipped 
down a little, showing the graceful curves of the 
shoulders ; and the coquettish hat which rested so 
lightly on the tastefully arranged hair. Ye gods! 
That small hat cost more than Martha would dare 
to expend for a whole year’s outfit. And those 
magnificent diamonds that glittered in the small 
ears, and that mass of gardenias at her breast with 
their sensuous, overpowering fragrance. Yes, this 
woman had every cause to be gay and smiling. She 
was happy, rich, admired. She was the picture of 
luxury and of health. 

How pitiful poor Martha appeared by her side 
in her sombre poverty ! She had demanded too 
much of herself. She felt degraded, ashamed, un- 
happy in the extreme, powerless against a rival 


HANGING MOSS. 


57 

whose quiver was full, and who possessed in her 
arsenal weapons of unattainable superiority. 

What Martha had suspected now became a cer- 
tainty. She could no longer have any doubts but 
that Hugo, whom she had thought to possess alone, 
was wholly in the toils of this arrogant woman 
with the restless blue eyes. 

How intensely she hated this Leonie, who no 
longer took the trouble to simulate the slightest 
friendliness or even a superficial interest in her, 
and seemed to have forgotten her existence ; who 
made use of the orchestra’s loud playing to whis- 
per her blandishments to Hugo in an openly 
shameless manner, smiling innocently the while, 
and manoeuvring skilfully with her fan ! Yes, 
they were blandishments that Leonie whispered to 
him as she leaned back in her chair and turned 
her head towards him. Martha listened with fe- 
verish intentness, but she could only hear a few 
disconnected sounds and the loud beating of her 
own heart, which sent the blood coursing through 
her frail body, and started the pulses throbbing at 
the wrists, at the throat, and at the temples. 

What had they to say to each other ? What 
were they talking about ? 

You have been playing a contemptible farce 
with me ; there is no other word for it. And now 


HANGING MOSS. 


58 

that you cannot be dangerous to me any longer, I 
will tell you frankly that you have been. For I 
have foolishly believed that you loved me. What 
have you really meant by your attentions ? Did 
you think, forsooth, that I am one of those women 
whom a man can take up at his pleasure ? Then 
you have erred in me. I am not as frivolous as 
I seem.” 

The house resounded with loud applause, be- 
stowed upon the perilous leaps of a young girl, 
who flew from one swaying trapeze to another. 
Welsheim was entirely carried away by the grace 
and confidence of the young artiste, and Hugo 
applauded too, as he bent forward, and said in a 
trembling voice : ‘‘ I have never deceived you 
either in word or deed. I have never thought of 
underestimating you ! The frivolity which you 
attribute to me is far from me. What I have been 
through since I have known you I cannot tell 
you — here least of all. Perhaps you will confess, 
some time, that you have done me a great in- 
justice.” 

And your fiancee ? ” 

‘‘ I cannot speak of it now ; it is impossible. 
I am not avoiding an explanation. On the con- 
trary, I earnestly beg you to give me an oppor- 
tunity of making one.” 


HANGING MOSS. 


59 


The popular Vienna songstress now appeared, 
greeted by the applause of the habitues of the 
place. She was tall and fine-looking — no longer 
young, but with youthful movements, and gay 
and sprightly in appearance. She harped on the 
beauties of Vienna in every variation. During 
the song, which was attentively listened to by the 
public, the conversation between Hugo and Leonie 
ceased. Hugo made use of this opportunity to 
speak a few indifferent words to Martha, who 
looked frightfully pale. She was injured to the 
quick by his neglect. Without understanding 
what the two were whispering about, she knew 
quite well that a shameful conspiracy was com- 
menced against her. She was almost beside her- 
self with excitement, and made an abrupt, repel- 
lent motion as Hugo spoke to her. It infuriated 
her to have a sop thrown to her now. 

During the next number on the programme — 
Japanese acrobats and jugglers — the music was 
again so loud that Hugo’s interrupted speech 
could be resumed. 

I perfectly understand that you must have a 
false opinion of me,” he said, stroking his beard 
to conceal his lips with his hand. ‘‘ I am very 
glad that all has happened as it has, for now I 
shall have the courage to tell you something that 


6o 


HANGING MOSS. 


has been burning into my soul. I will and must 
succeed in clearing up the mystery." 

I scarcely think so." 

“ You must give me a hearing. When can I 
see you — undisturbed ?" 

Leonie fanned herself and looked at the 
stage. 

“ I beg you to tell me when and where ? " 

“ To-morrow noon at half past twelve, at my 
house," Leonie answered, waving her fan as 
slowly as before, and without turning her eyes 
from the stage. 

Martha gave a hard, dry cough. She had 
heard Leonie’s answer. It cut her to the heart, 
and again the unnatural flush dyed her pale 
cheeks. She pressed her handkerchief to her 
mouth to suppress the sound of the violent cough- 
ing. When she took it away it was stained with 
blood. She alone saw it, and a smile of unutter- 
able sadness parted her lips. 

“ That is a very bad cold," Welsheim remarked 
compassionately. “ Perhaps we can find some 
pastilles at the confectioners. At any rate they’ll 
have bonbons." 

He started to get up. 

“ I beg you not to trouble yourself," Martha 
answered. “ It is already past." 


HANGING MOSS. 6 1 

Her voice sounded so strangely hollow that 
even Hugo remarked it. 

“ You seem to be really ill. Can I do anything 
for you ? ” 

“ Take me to a cab. I am very sorry to dis- 
turb you,” she added, turning more towards Wels- 
heim than towards Leonie. “ But I must beg 
you to pardon my going. It is too warm here, 
and there is too much smoke for me. My lungs 
are not strong, and I have to be careful. It is 
still early, and I shall be at home before eleven. 
I have only one request : do not trouble yourself 
on my account.” 

She had already risen. 

“ That is not to be thought of ! ” Welsheim ex- 
claimed. “ We have promised your mother — our 
carriage — ” 

Martha had pushed by Welsheim, and with the 
words, Pray excuse me,” she had reached the 
door. Her departure was so sudden that they 
supposed that she had been taken unexpectedly 
ill. She left the box with a hasty bow. Hugo 
had risen, seized his hat, and saying, I hope to 
be back in a few moments, and to bring her with 
me — it is of no consequence — it will soon pass 
over,” he followed her. 

Welsheim also prepared to leave the box. 


62 


HANGING MOSS. 


“ You are not going to leave me here alone 
Leonie said. “You heard him say that it was 
nothing serious.” 

In case of emergency, Hugo took a check at 
the door, so as to be on the safe side. 

Martha knew quite well that she would not be 
able to control herself if she remained with Hugo, 
and she did not wish to betray herself. 

“ Let me go home alone,” she begged, as they 
stood before the cab, whose driver leisurely pre- 
pared himself for the trip. “ I feel quite well 
again now that I am in the open air. You will do 
me a favour by not accompanying me.” 

“ But that is impossible ! You must see — ” 

“ Why should it be impossible ? The house 
will not be closed, and you will please me by 
making no objections, I should much prefer to 
be alone at present.” 

“ But, Martha—” 

“ Do not torment me any longer. Your friends 
will not doubt for a moment but that you would 
willingly come with me. They will understand 
that you have followed my express wish. There, 
I beg, not a word more — Driver, Bruder Strasse.” 

She drew the cab door to and waved her hand 
to Hugo as the horse started off at a jog trot. 
Then she threw herself back and wept and sobbed 


HANGING MOSS. 63 

SO violently that her whole body was convulsed — 
wept for him whom she had lost. 

Happily the widow had already put out the 
light when Martha cautiously entered the bed- 
room. The mother woke from her half sleep. 

Back already ? What has happened ? ” 

“ Nothing, mamma. The air in the theatre was 
so stifling and bad that I did not want to stay, on 
account of my stupid cough. And, besides, it was 
tiresome. Hugo came home with me. Pleasant 
dreams, mamma. Good night." 

She bent over her mother and kissed her. Then 
she undressed without lighting the lamp. When 
she got into bed she buried her face in the pillows 
and pulled the coverings up over her so as to cry 
unnoticed. Her mother had fallen asleep again, 
as she knew by her regular breathing. 

Hugo did not like to remember that Martha 
did not need to urge him very strongly not to ac- 
company her home. It strengthened the impulse 
to return to Leonie. It was a very good thing 
that he had taken a check. 

A smile of satisfaction flitted across Leonie’s 
lips as Hugo returned to the box. He explained in 
an awkward and shamefaced manner that Martha 
had insisted on his return. She felt quite well 
again, and had only feared the tobacco-smoke. 

5 


HANGING MOSS. 


64 

She had driven home in good spirits, and had com- 
missioned him to thank them for her, and to give 
Mrs. Welsheim her kindest regards. 

Leonie closed her eyes in recognition of the 
message. 

It was impossible for Hugo to recover his 
former frame of mind. An inexplicable power 
had driven him into Leonie’s presence. But now 
that he could almost touch her when he rested his 
arm on the back of her chair, that he saw her be- 
fore him in all her perfect charm, and breathed in 
the bewildering perfume of the gardenias at her 
breast, now that his longing was stilled and that he 
dared talk to her without the former restraint — 
for Welsheim had neither ears nor eyes for any- 
thing but what was taking place on the stage — he 
was silent, mastered by a feeling of deep depres- 
sion that he could not shake off. He thought of 
Martha driving back to her joyless home, alone, in 
that rickety cab. He no longer tried to excuse 
his conduct. He told himself that he had acted in 
an inexcusable manner towards the poor sick child 
whom he had robbed of her peace of mind. If any 
wrong had been begun, it was entirely his fault, 
and he alone had to atone for it. He did not dare 
confess the truth to her that he did not love her 
as he had convinced himself and her : it would 


HANGING MOSS. 


65 


break her heart. He credited himself with enough 
strength of will to keep the truth always concealed 
from her. She should not suffer, poor child ! And 
who knew but that just Fate would reward him in 
the end for his heroism, and make him happy in 
the fulfilment of his moral duty ? He would love 
Martha in a very different way from what he had 
once dreamed of loving, but perhaps not less. His 
decision was made : he would withdraw from Le- 
onie’s fatal influence, much as he would suffer 
thereby. From now on his life belonged wholly 
to the duties which he had undertaken towards 
Martha. To be sure, he would have a hard battle 
to fight — all the more noble the victory. He had 
only himself , only his own desires, to overcome. 
He knew that Leonie was too proud to make any 
effort to hold him back, when he had decided to 
go. He needed only to intimate to her that he 
felt uneasy in his conscience — that he regarded 
further association with her as a treachery to his 
affianced wife — to be certain to receive his dis- 
missal. As yet they had sinned but in thought , 
there were no chains to break which they had 
forged. It was still possible for them to meet 
each other in after-life without letting their eyes 
fall — for them to laugh over what had happened 
as a pleasing folly of youth. 


66 


HANGING MOSS. 


There was no other way. He did not try to 
delude himself into thinking that Leonie’s with- 
drawal from his life would not create a frightful 
void. As susceptible as he was to outward appear- 
ances, it was not Leonie’s peculiar beauty that had 
drawn him to her. It was her keen appreciation 
of his efforts, her sincere sympathy in his work, 
her constant stimulation and encouragement. He 
frankly confessed to himself that he could never 
have written the play which was nearing its com- 
pletion without her constant co-operation during 
the last few weeks. He felt the strongest impulse to 
read her every line that he wrote down. She never 
made a commonplace observation, and all her criti- 
cisms were keen and to the point. She knew how 
to give the most pleasing and clever expression to 
her thoughts, she understood how to find fault 
without hurting his vanity. Her praise was as 
warm as the sunshine ; his association with her 
was a constant incitement. 

Hugo did not suspect that Martha could sym- 
pathise with his work just as truly and perhaps 
more deeply. Martha’s vocabulary was very im- 
perfect, and she was awkward in the expression of 
any of her feelings. She did not dare to blame, 
she did not know how to praise. She listened to 
him attentively with her unnaturally brilliant eyes, 


HANGING MOSS. 


67 

smiled with satisfaction or embarrassment, kept 
silent or spoke only commonplaces, and so a feel- 
ing of depression crept over Hugo whenever he 
read aloud to her some scene that he had just 
finished. While from Leonie he hurried back to 
his desk with increased enthusiasm in his work, 
Martha weighed him down like lead, Leonie gave 
him wings. So it had come about that for some 
time Hugo had entirely given up reading his work 
aloud to Martha, while Leonie had become the 
spur to the most gladsome energy. 

But be that as it might, he had now to put an 
end to it all, since he had recognised the fact that 
he could no longer carry on this impossible and 
insupportable double play, but must act towards 
Martha as an honourable man should. He did not 
despair of educating Martha in time, and of rais- 
ing her to his level. 

All this passed through Hugo’s brain as he 
sat behind Leonie, sober and silent — silent for 
several moments that seemed an eternity to 
Leonie. 

Without being able to see Hugo’s face, she di- 
vined what was going on in his mind ; nevertheless 
she wanted to convince herself of the accuracy of 
her conjectures, with a secret hope that she might 
be mistaken. 


68 


HANGING MOSS. 


“ Since we must give up the pleasure of having 
Miss Breuer with us to-night,” she cautiously be- 
gan, our little celebration after the performance 
has scarcely any further object. The raison d'etre 
is wanting. I think we had better postpone the 
festivities until another day.” 

“ Give up the festivities, so far as I am con- 
cerned, ” Welsheim interrupted, “ but there is no 
reason why we should not take a glass of wine to- 
gether in some cosy corner.” 

Hugo was silent. 

‘‘ What do you think ? ” Welsheim asked. 

“ I cannot very well decide against Mrs. Wels- 
heim,” Hugo answered dryly. 

Leonie grew a little pale ; she pressed her lips 
together and her nostrils dilated. Then she had 
not been mistaken, after all ! What would he not 
have done before — yesterday, even — to have re- 
mained with her an hour or two longer ! And now 
that it was only necessary for him to speak one 
word, he was silent, and strove to escape through 
the opening she had made for him. 

After a short pause, Leonie again took up the 
conversation. 

“Besides, I must confess that my curiosity is 
satisfied. I think we had better go.” 

Hugo was again silent. 


HANGING MOSS. 69 

“But the best is still to come — the panto- 
mime ! ” Welsheim interrupted. 

Leonie waited a second to see if Hall would 
speak. As he persisted in his silence, she said 
with assumed fatigue : 

“ I feel rather tired ; I should prefer — ” 

“ If you do not feel well — of course your wish 
is law to me ; but if it is not too much to ask I 
should like to watch the pantomime." 

Now, at last, Hugo spoke : 

“ Since Mrs. Welsheim seems to be fatigued, 
we certainly shall not miss much if we give up the 
pantomime. It is always the same old story — 
cudgelling, kicking, tumbling." 

“ Then we will go," Leonie said, rising impa- 
tiently. 

Welsheim succumbed to the inevitable and fol- 
lowed his wife, to whom Hugo had offered his 
arm. 

“ Then I am to see you to-morrow at half-past 
twelve ? " he whispered, as they descended the 
steps. 

Leonie slowly closed her eyes in assent. 

Welsheim’s invitation to make use of their car- 
riage Hall declined. He said he wished first to 
look up a friend or two, whom he was sure of find- 
ing in a neighbouring restaurant. 


70 


HANGING MOSS. 


Leonie feigned a headache, as she always did 
when she did not wish to talk. 

When the husband and wife reached home, 
where they found supper awaiting them in the small 
dining-room only used on the rare occasions when 
they had no guests, Leonie begged her husband to 
excuse her if she did not keep him company, for 
she really felt ill and wished to retire at once. She 
added hastily that Felix need have absolutely no 
cause for worry. A few hours and she would be 
all right again. She raised her forehead for her 
husband to kiss, and went immediately to her bed- 
room which adjoined his. She closed the connect- 
ing door. 

Germaine had taken her mistress's hat and 
mantle and was awaiting her further orders. It 
was a spacious room, overlooking the garden and 
decorated in light colours. Even the furniture was 
fashioned out of white maple. The wide bed 
stood in a deep recess partitioned off by sliding 
curtains of the same delicate silken fabric as the 
low cushioned chairs. At the foot of the bed was 
a couch with thick, soft, luxurious cushions and an 
eider-down quilt, as light as a feather, thrown over 
the end. There Leonie was accustomed to take 
her afternoon nap behind the half-drawn curtains. 
Opposite, between the windows, stood a large 


HANGING MOSS. 


71 


dressing-table, with a tall glass in the centre 
reaching to the floor f on either side were big and 
little boxes and cases, some closed, the others 
open, containing trifles without number: gloves, 
fans, handkerchiefs, fichus, the simple ornaments 
which she generally wore, letters too, and all 
kinds of memoranda, light literature — in a word, 
everything imaginable. On either side of the glass 
was a three-branched candelabrum, the tapers now 
being lighted, for Leonie liked the brightness of 
day at all hours. 

She had sat awhile on the divan and was gaz- 
ing almost blankly at the bunches of roses on the 
velvety carpet. She rose with an effort and 
motioned to Germaine, who was standing bolt 
upright in a corner and was endeavouring not to 
betray her presence by so much as a breath. 

While she was disrobing her mistress, Germaine 
ventured to remark, good-naturedly : 

“Madame should never wear anything but 
light dresses. Madame looks too beautiful to- 
night.” 

Leonie smiled wearily. 

“ Madame seems worn out. Perhaps madame 
would like a cup of tea ? It does so much good. 
And it is still early— hardly eleven.” As she was 
speaking she folded the gown caressingly and car- 


HANGING MOSS. 


72 

tied it to the adjoining dressing-room to hang it 
up in the gigantic wardrobe. 

Leonie had not answered. 

Germaine had returned and knelt before her 
mistress, drawing off the dainty shoes and replac- 
ing them with a pair of slippers. 

Shall I bring madame a cup of tea?” re- 
peated Germaine. 

“ No, thank you ; you may go.” 

Germaine’s face assumed an expression of 
blank astonishment. 

“ Will madame loosen her hair herself ? ” 

“ Yes. Good night.” 

Shall I not at least put out the lights by the 
mirror ? ” 

‘‘ I will do it myself.” 

“ I hope madame will have a good night’s rest,” 
said Germaine in perplexity. As she closed the 
door after her she shook her head. It was all so 
very unusual ! “ Ach Gott ! ” she sighed uneasily, 

and betook herself thoughtfully to her room. 

Leonie remained a long time, half dressed, sit- 
ting on the low couch. She felt a strange heavi- 
ness in her head, a dull stupor, a general discom- 
fort. She thought of no one particular thing — she 
seemed to be entangled in a chaotic dream. A 
heavy wrinkle imprinted itself more and more 


HANGING MOSS. 


73 


deeply on her forehead, extending vertically from 
between the dark brows to the border of the 
hair. 

At last she rose with an effort and went with 
languid steps to her boudoir without throwing on 
the dressing-gown which Germaine had laid in 
readiness. She seated herself before the looking- 
glass without examining herself more closely, as 
was usual with her. She took one hairpin after 
the other out of the heavy, soft dark hair, which 
hung down in wavy masses and fell in soft curls 
around the bared neck and shoulders. Then she 
threw back her head, shaking it until the luxuriant 
hair enveloped her like a mantle. She did not 
notice how beautiful she was now. She put out 
the candles indifferently and returned to the bed- 
room. She seated herself once more on the couch 
and fell again into her joyless brooding. 

Gradually her thoughts took shape. Out of the 
vague uncertainty there stepped a figure, clear and 
sharply defined; — Hugo ! 

The familiar intercourse, the constant intellec- 
tual communion with him had become custom- 
ary with her. She had come to look upon it as a 
matter of course that she should see Hugo almost 
daily, ^should talk over all that interested him and 
that concerned herself — things of which they could 


74 


HANGING MOSS. 


speak to no one else ; that she should gently re- 
pell his advances, which at times became almost 
violent, with a feigned sisterliness and friendship. 
Hugo belonged to her and her existence more than 
did any other. And now she was brought face to 
fajce with the probability of losing him. Yes, the 
probability ! A wicked smile played about her 
mouth, over the ingratitude of men. She was 
quite right in treating them all like so many pup- 
pets, her only mistake had been in making an ex- 
ception in favour of this one. Pie was no better 
than the rest of them. 

Yes, truly, the best of them all was her own 
husband, who was happy when he could read a 
wish in her eyes which was in his power to gratify. 
If he had not been her husband, the proofs of his 
affection might have touched her. But that she 
had been given to him for weal or woe, as an igno- 
rant child, that she belonged to him without love, 
that was what she could not forgive him, what re- 
volted her, what filled her with repulsion — yes, 
which even roused a feeling of disgust. She now 
felt that the purity of her relations with Hugo had 
become an indispensable ideal counterpoise against 
her husband’s lawfully acquired intimacy, which 
now seemed to her a horrible infidelity. She had 
need of a sympathetic friend to be able to breathe 


HANGING MOSS. 


75 


in the presence of the unloved husband. That she 
did not love Felix was first brought forcibly upon 
her when Hugo approached her. And for this 
knowledge, painful though it was, she was thankful 
from the depths of her soul. Gladly did she put 
up with his humours and his constant outbursts of 
jealousy. What would become of her if she should 
lose him ? 

Must it then really be ? Could it be ? 

She lifted her head, which had gradually sunk 
lower and lower in her sorrowful meditation, and 
her eyes accidentally caught sight of her reflection 
in the glass. It made such an impression upon 
her that she looked more intently in the mirror 
than before. The woman whom she saw there in 
the blaze of light on the soft cushions, bending 
slightly forward, with thick, unbound hair that hap- 
pened to fall so as to leave the right shoulder and 
beautiful arm uncovered — yes, the woman was fair 
and to be coveted. 

She rose and went quite close to the glass. She 
smiled and shook the heavy natural mantle with a 
childish pleasure. 

Must she then really lose Hugo ? Could it be ? 
Terribly startled, she shrank together with a low 
cry. The door opened and Welsheim appeared 
on the threshold. With a spring she fled to the 


^6 HANGING MOSS. 

recess and flung the dressing-gown over her in 
feverish haste. 

“ Why, what does this mean ? ” he asked in the 
greatest astonishment. “ I supposed you to be 
sound asleep an hour ago, and when I came care- 
fully to my room I saw a glimmer of light.” 

“ How can you frighten me so ! ” cried Leonie 
indignantly. “ I am shaking all over,” and in ris- 
ing anger she continued : “ It is preposterous that 
a woman cannot have a place as big as her hand 
where she can be free from intrusion at any hour 
of the day or night.” 

Leonie had never before allowed herself to be 
carried to such a pitch of violence against Felix. 
Until now she had passed over everything with 
coolness and indifference. 

Welsheim looked quite abashed at the white 
figure half concealed behind the curtains. 

Pardon me,” he stammered, completely taken 
aback, “ but it is quite natural that I should come 
in. You complained of not feeling well. I saw a 
light. I became uneasy and entered. It is per- 
fectly natural.” 

“ Well, yes,” admitted Leonie, “ but you startled 
me horribly. I was lying on the couch until now, 
I felt so badly. I was just about to retire when 
you entered.” 


HANGING MOSS. 


17 


“ Pardon me. And how are you now ? " 

“ Better, thank you.” 

“ Ah, then, I trust you will sleep well.” 

“ I must ask you to leave me. I am ready to 
faint with exhaustion.” 

“ Good night, then,” murmured Felix, kissing 
her. 

“ Good night,” answered Leonie, and drew a 
deep breath as Felix set her free. 

“ Shall I put out the lights ? ” 

“ No, thank you, I shall let them burn. Good 
night.” 

“ Good night.” 

When Felix had closed the door behind him, 
Leonie shuddered. She undressed hastily and 
noiselessly, as though she feared to remind her hus- 
band in the next room of her presence; left the 
candles burning, and did not take the pains to 
put up her hair. She drew the curtains so close 
that no ray of light penetrated, and slipped into 
bed. 

A few moments longer, she lay there with 
beating heart, then she gradually grew calmer 
and dropped asleep. 

At a comparatively early hour— much earlier 
than Martha had expected— the poor, feverish child 


78 


HANGING MOSS. 


heard the key in the hall door. Hugo had re- 
turned immediately to the house from the Reichs- 
halle. 

“ Thank God ! ” she sighed softly, and pressed 
her hand against her left side as though to subdue 
the violent beating of her heart. 


CHAPTER IV. 


The following morning it was with real solici- 
tude that Hugo inquired how Martha felt. 

“ Oh, I am quite well again,” she said, but her 
startling pallor and the dark rings under her eyes 
belied her words. “Do not tell mother,” she 
whispered hastily, “that I drove home alone.” 

“ I have to reproach myself seriously for not 
having come with you.” 

“ It was better so.” 

“ It was not right,” replied Hugo, lowering his 
eyes. 

“ Did you enjoy yourselves afterwards ? ” 

“ Mrs. Welsheim broke up the party shortly 
after, and I was not sorry. I came home to you 
immediately.” 

“ Yes, I was still awake ; I heard you come in.” 

“ Do you like the Welsheims ? We must call 
there within the next few days.” 

“ If you think — ” 

“ They are pleasant people, and if you come to 

know them more intimately — ” 

6 


8o 


HANGING MOSS. 


“ I have no doubt about their being pleasant. 
I am only afraid that we will hardly suit each 
other. They are very rich — I am poor. Don’t 
think me vain if I say that the splendour of the 
fine lady makes me ashamed of myself.” 

“ I understand that perfectly. The incon- 
gruity between the life the Welsheims lead and 
the existence allotted to us has been, indeed, the 
principal reason for my not having brought about 
your meeting before. I was not thinking of an 
intimate friendship. I had only the regard to 
social duties in view.” 

“ I will do what you think right. Have you any 
particular plans for to-day ? ” asked Martha with 
complete self-possession. 

Nothing particular,” Hugo returned. “ I 
must go out for a short time about noon.” 

Martha looked at him quietly, but betrayed 
nothing of what was going on within her. 

“ I have an appointment with a friend whom I 
met last night,” Hugo felt induced to add. 

“ Last night ? ” repeated Martha, “ but you 
told me that you came straight home from the 
Reichshalle.” 

Hugo hid the embarrassment which he felt at 
being detected in a lie, under feigned gaiety. 

“You are cross-questioning me like an inquis- 


HANGING MOSS. 


8l 


itor. When I said yesterday, I meant day before 
yesterday, of course. But why do you ask ? ” 

“ I wanted to ask you to take a walk with me. 
The weather is so lovely, and I think it would do 
me good." 

** I shall be at your disposal the entire after- 
noon." 

“ Never mind," answered Martha without the 
least show of bitterness. “ I longed particularly 
for the midday sun. If you can not go with me, I 
may go alone. Besides, I have some few errands 
to do. I must buy some embroidery silks and 
wools, exchange some music — " 

** You could do that equally well in the after- 
noon." 

We have plenty of time to talk it over," smiled 
Martha. 

It was hard for Hugo to refuse to gratify 
Martha on account of his prearranged meeting with 
Leonie. The first lie came hard, and it was awk- 
wardly enough acted out. He slipped out of his 
rooms as noiselessly as possible. This caution was 
quite superfluous. There was no danger to be 
feared from Martha’s hearing him. She had 
already left the house a quarter of an hour before, 
with equal caution. 

From a casual remark that Welsheim had let 


82 


HANGING MOSS. 


fall the evening before she had gathered that they 
lived on the Victoria Strasse. She had looked it 
up in the directory to convince herself that she had 
heard aright. She took the first street car that 
would carry her to the Potsdam Bridge. It was 
nearly a quarter of one when she turned into the 
Victoria Strasse. She went slowly by the house 
where the hated woman awaited her lover. If he 
should meet her — what did it matter ? Should he 
sink through the ground for shame ; should the 
consciousness of the wrong done her bring about a 
final rupture — she was prepared for anything. She 
wished to know the truth at any cost ; she would 
allow herself to be deceived no longer. This was 
her one desire, and pride, which had entirely over- 
mastered this girl, usually so gentle and patient, 
had given her the strength to accomplish it. She 
went slowly the whole length of the street to the 
Thiergarten, then she crossed to the other side and 
turned around. She again examined the house 
with feverish interest. Although the curtains and 
heavy draperies prevented a sight of the interior, 
she gazed up with wide-opened eyes, and her imagi- 
nation drew aside the closely drawn curtains. She 
saw the superb rooms far more fairy-like and se- 
ductive than they were in reality, and she saw out- 
stretched upon the divan a woman of unnatural 


HANGING MOSS. 


83 

beauty, with magnificent dark hair and remarkable 
eyes, such as are attributed to the fabulous creat- 
ures of the sea — saw how she held out her arms 
in longing. 

Martha’s heart beat to suffocation. The for- 
bidding picture which her fevered imagination had 
conjured up before her vanished in an instant, to 
give place to one of reality still more repellent. 
She saw, hardly fifty paces from her, on the oppo- 
site side of the street, where Welsheim’s house 
stood, Hugo, who approached with moderately 
rapid steps, and, after a glance at his watch, has- 
tened his pace. He had not seen Martha. With a 
sudden resolve she crossed the small garden of the 
house before which she was standing and rang the 
bell. The door was opened, but she stood before 
it for a few moments. She had convinced herself. 
Hugo had entered. 

The portress, who had stuck her head through 
the slide, replied in the negative to Martha’s ques- 
tion if a Mrs. Councillor Breuer lived there, but 
added that a councillor’s wife lived next door, but 
whether her name was Breuer or not she did not 
know. Martha thanked her and left. 

Although she had only seen what she had been 
perfectly sure of seeing, now that the expected had 
happened she was stunned. With a dulled brain 


HANGING MOSS. 


84 

she went through the Thiergarten, filled with a gay 
throng on this mild spring afternoon — under the 
lindens — slowly home, almost without conscious- 
ness, without a glance at her surroundings, without 
knowing whither her steps were leading her. She 
was quite surprised when she found that she had 
reached home. She told her mother that she had 
been unable to change her music at the dealer’s. 
The beautiful weather had induced her to take a 
little walk. But she had overrated her powers. 
A sudden exhaustion had seized her. It was with 
difficulty that she had crept home. She now felt 
so worn out that she would go and lie down awhile 
in the little room next the kitchen. 

Mrs. Breuer pitied the poor child, put a pillow 
under her head, spread a shawl over her, and drew 
down the green window-shade. Then she went 
out of the room carefully. Martha gazed fixedly 
at the tasteless design on the shade — an enamoured 
couple in mediaeval attire, feeding swans from an 
impossible balcony overlooking a sky-blue lake. 
She stared at the picture which she had seen a 
thousand times before without ever having noticed 
it in particular. Now for the first time she appre- 
ciated its absurdity and crudity. Thus she lay 
there for a long time with straining eyes, staring 
at the childishly painted group. She was incapa- 


HANGING MOSS. 


85 

ble of grasping a thought. Neither did she have 
any feeling — not even was she conscious of the 
sensation of pain which drew her hand involunta- 
rily to her left side and kept it pressed tightly 
there. 

Martha had been correct in her mental picture 
of her rival's appearance. 

Hugo was completely taken aback when he was 
shown to the small boudoir, adjoining the bow- 
window drawing-room, and stood in Leonie’s pres- 
ence. 

“ You must excuse me if I receive you in this 
way," she said calmly, seating herself on the sofa 
and motioning Hugo to take the nearest chair. 
“ I made a mistake in the hour, and was not quite 
through with my toilet. I did not wish to keep 
you waiting." 

Remembering the picture that the mirror had 
shown her the night before, she had not dressed 
her hair, which fell again in wonderful, shining 
waves below her waist, Hugo gazed in honest 
admiration at the beauty and thickness of this 
hair. 

He saw for the first time the beautiful outlines 
of the head which had hitherto been hidden by the 
fashionable style of hair-dressing. Leonie wore a 


86 


HANGING MOSS. 


morning gown of creamy cashmere of Oriental cut, 
with wide sleeves, which at every motion left bare 
half of the arm and more. Around her waist was 
tied a thick tasseled cord of the same colour. 

Hugo looked silently at the lovely woman 
beside him. Never before had he seen her so 
seductively bewitching. He was silent so long 
that Leonie was obliged to begin anew. 

** I have done as you wished. We shall not be 
disturbed. Felix is at the Exchange. I have 
denied myself to all callers. What have you to 
say to me ? ” 

** I implore you to listen to me with forbear- 
ance. And do not be impatient. I will be as brief 
as possible. I sought your acquaintance — I own 
it frankly — out of curiosity. I had heard much of 
your house, and your talents as a hostess. I 
wanted to watch you and your guests — wanted to 
learn from you — if I amused myself at the same 
time, so much the better. I was then already 
engaged. For material reasons. Miss Breuer and I 
had agreed not to announce the engagement until 
immediately before the wedding should take place. 
I had no cause, had not even the right to speak of 
it to you, at that time." 

“ At that time ! — but go on — " 

‘^You know with what inconceivable rapidity 


HANGING MOSS. 87 

we were drawn towards each other. When I had 
met you twice, three times, I had talked of things 
with you which are only spoken of in closest inti- 
macy. My trust in you was boundless. I felt the 
strongest necessity to let you look into the inmost 
recesses of my soul. Never before had I known 
such perfect sympathy. Why should I mince mat- 
ters ? I was in love with you. I was untrue in 
my heart to Martha. If you had given me proofs 
of your love — you have not done so — I fought 
with myself. Should I tell her. the truth ? It 
would have killed her, the poor, frail child. And 
perhaps I was mistaken in my feelings, after all. 
Perhaps it was only a passing delirium. Perhaps 
your undisturbed calm would bring me to my 
senses. I had not the courage to deal the poor 
child such a deadly blow. And should I tell 
you ? " 

Yes ! " 

No ! For I loved you to madness. I could 
not breathe without you — you had repulsed my 
wooing as a lover, you only permitted me to ad- 
mire you as a friend.” 

Ah, indeed ! ” Leonie broke in with a bitter 
laugh, “ and the friend had no claim on your con- 
fidence I Do you not know how pitiable your 
arguments are, how they twist and turn? You 


88 


HANGING MOSS. 


give your fiancee to believe that you love her. 
You do everything in your power to make me 
believe that you love me ! Lies here, lies there ! 
And now you wish to persuade me that it is all 
perfectly proper? You need not make any further 
attempt. And if you will permit me to offer you 
one last piece of advice it is this : have at least 
the courage to tell Miss Breuer that it is all over 
between you. You have given me plainly enough 
to understand that you would have sacrificed her 
if I had acknowledged my love for you.” 

“ If you had done so,” cried Hugo, angered at 
Leonie’s contemptuous tone — “yes, what would 
have happened then — I really do not know ! But 
you have not. You have been a friend to me in 
the truest sense of the word — a sympathetic, help- 
ful friend for whom I shall always be grateful, no 
matter what happens. What, then, do you wish ? 
If you are my friend, then you can see no rival in 
Miss Breuer. That I have concealed my engage- 
ment from you may perhaps surprise, annoy, pos- 
sibly even hurt you but you have no right to re- 
proach me with lying and deceit.” 

“ I have been an exacting friend, as you know, 
my dear ; I have exacted everything of you — all 
your affection, all your thoughts, your whole heart. 
And in return I have given you everything — 


HANGING MOSS. 


89 

everything that belonged to me — my soul ! What 
no longer belonged to me I have failed, it is true, 
to take from him to whom it belongs, to give it 
secretly to you as a thief to a receiver of stolen 
goods. It is this which you reproach me for, and 
which, in your moral conception, justifies you in 
having concealed for many long months what was 
burning on your lips — what, as you knew quite 
well, you would have to tell me sooner or later. 
Do not fence with empty words. Your engage- 
ment was a treachery to me, your friendship a 
treachery to her.” 

“ I have sinned towards her, I admit. Yes ! I 
will tell her truthfully, and she will forgive me.” 

“ What ! ” cried Leonie in horror. You will 
delude the poor, foolish thing with your sophis- 
tries ? Will you serve up that childish fable of a 
passing infatuation, which construction you have 
just put upon your guilty embarrassment ? Do 
you wish to make her believe that you have erred ? 
Do you wish to play the penitent sinner who has 
found the right way to her heart again ? You 
ought to be ashamed — If you have ever loved 
me — I do not know. I had thought so. But 
that you do not love that pale girl, I know as 
surely as I know that you now fill me with abhor- 
rence. Go ! ” 


90 


HANGING MOSS. 


She had risen, and Hugo also started to his 
feet. Hatred and anger flashed from her eyes. 
Everything rebelled in her at the thought that he 
had flung off the bonds that had held him to her, 
and was about to return to that sickly, insignifi- 
cant creature. Ah ! the simple thing, completely 
infatuated with him, would believe him and forgive 
him at the first kiss ! He would bring her to rea- 
son with little trouble. There was a horrible 
tumult in Leonie’s breast — her heart contracted — 
she was almost beside herself with jealousy. She 
gave a mirthless laugh as she caught him looking 
towards his hat. He would go as she had com- 
manded him ! He could leave her like this ! 

“You drive me away. I must obey. If I ever 
see you again — ” ^ 

Leonie shook her head violently, till the dark 
curls played around it in wonderful beauty. 

“ Never ! ” she exclaimed, almost with a scream. 

“ And I must part from you like this ? With- 
out one word of thanks for all — ” 

Leonie again shook the dark, rippling mass. 

“ Go ! " she repeated, this time in a low voice. 
“ I hate you ! ” 

They stood close together. The intoxicating 
perfume of her glorious hair clouded Hugo’s 
senses. He heard her rapid breathing and felt 


HANGING MOSS. 


91 


her quick breath. He looked at her. A painful 
frown contracted her forehead. A reproachful 
look, full of sadness and infinite tenderness, met 
his, and touched him to the depths of his heart. 
And this look kindled the slumbering fire which 
he, poor fool, had fondly imagined he had smoth- 
ered, and it burst out again in a still fiercer flame. 
He thought of nothing in the whole wide world 
but of the beautiful woman almost touching him. 
He had forgotten everything — all the cruel, cutting 
words he had just heard, all the good resolves he 
had brought with him. It seemed to him that an 
invisible band was compressing his head. She re- 
mained motionless. He smiled strangely. But 
when he put his arm about her and gently drew 
her close to his heart, and held her fast, her head 
sank back inertly, and she trembled and shivered 
like the hunted deer that sees no escape. 

Then she smiled under his caresses, and an- 
swered with half-opened lips and half-closed eyes, 
happy and forgiving. 

“ Now you know that I love you,” she whis- 
pered in his ear. 

“ Yes.” 

“ And you love me, too — me alone ? ” 

“You alone. You know it.” 

“ Yes,” came in a scarcely audible whisper. 


92 


HANGING MOSS. 


But in spirit there rose before them the shadowy 
figure of a pale, fragile girl with brilliant eyes. 
But she faded away in the blaze of sunshine which 
glorified them, like a phantom spirit in the soft 
spring light, 

Martha’s name was never mentioned again be- 
tween them. 


CHAPTER V. 


In the fall of the year 1873 the circles of Ber- 
lin society particularly interested in theatrical mat- 
ters talked of nothing but the new play, the first 
performance of which was to take place shortly. 
It bore the title of “ Hercules and Omphale,” and 
the playwright was Dr. Hugo Hall. 

Hall had been the subject of unusual comment 
in the Thiergarten society. All the world knew 
that the young author stood on the most intimate 
terms with the clever and brilliant Mrs. Felix Wels- 
heim — all the world except the fortunate Mr. Felix 
Welsheirn, who was doing great things on the Ex- 
change, and was proud of his beautiful wife and 
his splendid house. 

Leonie and Hugo had at first taken the greatest 
pains to conceal the guilty truth from the world. In 
this they succeeded. But as time went on they gained 
confidence, and committed this or that trifling im- 
prudence, which noticed by one, related to another, 
soon assumed a significant meaning. People put 


94 


HANGING MOSS. 


these trifles and open facts together ; everything in 
general and particular was easily explained as soon 
as the existence of a love affair between the two 
was presupposed. And so the report was spread, 
the truth of which no man could longer doubt. 

People saw Leonie and Hugo constantly 
together, saw how they exchanged glances of 
understanding and intelligence. Those who were 
more intimate at the Welsheims observed that all 
who were distasteful to Dr. Hall were slighted by 
Leonie, and finally disappeared from the drawing- 
rooms. It was also noticeable that Leonie had 
changed, in a certain sense to her advantage. If 
she could not quite give up flirting — it was innate 
in her — she did not carry it to such an extreme as 
before. She had become more scrupulous, for she 
felt herself under strict surveillance. But the most 
compromising of all was her active furtherance of 
Hall’s play. Any one whom she thought could 
either help or harm the piece, she treated with 
particular attention, and handled with all the arts 
of feminine diplomacy until she had brought the 
person in question to a favourable state of mind. 

She took the truest, warmest, heartiest interest 
in the play which had grown up under her eyes. 
She was convinced of its greatness, and looked for 
a startling success. She considered the plot — the 


HANGING MOSS. 


95 


subduing of the strong man by the frail woman — 
to be conceived with true dramatic power, and 
carried out thoroughly in the modern spirit. 

When, some two months after the first secret 
kiss, Hugo read her the closing act, she had flung 
herself impetuously on his neck, had drawn him 
passionately to her and cried, “ I am proud of 
you ! ” She took the manuscript away from him, 
because he seemed too careless. Welsheim had 
been obliged to make inquiries everywhere, and to 
drive all over the city to find an experienced copy- 
ist to whom one could safely confide the treasure. 
She had promised the man a large compensation 
if he would take the work in hand immediately and 
strain every nerve towards its completion. She 
had the neatly copied pages brought to her, sheet 
by sheet, and her exultation grew with every mo- 
ment. She made Hugo write to the general super- 
intendent, Mr. von Hiilfen, several days before the 
completed manuscript was in his hands. She had 
found ways and means of preparing the manager 
in chief and the principal reader for the coming 
event, and induced them to promise it an early 
reading. 

At the end of June, “ Hercules and Omphale” was 
handed in. Three days later came the glad news- 
accepted ! She had not expected anything else, 
7 


HANGING MOSS. 

but still she was almost too happy ; and in hon- 
our of the day she allowed her husband to give 
her a beautiful bracelet for which she had long 
wished. 

Her enthusiasm about the play had infected 
Felix. Welsheim, the cleverest and sharpest head 
on ’change, who rejoiced in the most well-deserved 
respect in the business world, who showed the keen- 
est penetration in all questions of practical life, was 
simple as a child in the hands of his wife. She 
could do with him what she chose. She made him 
think that in everything which she might have 
done, it was he who had taken the initiative. She 
made him dance like a puppet on a string, while he 
serenely supposed he was the head of the house, 
and possessed an unusually yielding and submis- 
sive wife who followed his commands to the letter. 
He had the blindest faith in her. He liked Hugo, 
and when he did not see him for several days — for 
Hugo selected hours when the husband was at the 
Exchange or in his office — he became uneasy and 
inquired for him. 

Welsheim, of course, had not heard Hall’s play 
read, but he was all enthusiasm for it. 

Hugo’s relations with Leonie had given the 
doctor a certain prominence in society. Many^ 
who had never read a line of his, now treated him 


HANGING MOSS. 


97 


with a certain flattering attention. The lover of 
the beautiful Leonie Welsheim, for whose position 
so many had striven eagerly but in vain, was no 
ordinary mortal. 

“ There is Dr. Hall,” one would whisper to 
another. 

“ Mrs. Welsheim’s lover ? ” 

So they say.” 

Where ? ” 

** There — not far from the door. He is just 
speaking to her.” 

‘‘Ah, yes; now I see him. A handsome man.” 

“ Very, and he must be clever, too.” 

No clouds darkened the sky of this threefold 
union. Welsheim was contented, Leonie and Hugo 
were happy. With a remarkable philosophy, Leonie 
had resigned herself to her lover being bound to 
another. She knew that he loved her, and 
troubled herself not at all about her wretched, in- 
significant rival. She smiled now when she thought 
of her ever having been foolish enough to be en- 
raged over a girl like this Martha. She had almost 
entirely forgotten the poor, sick child in the back 
room in the Bruder Strasse. 

Between Hugo and Leonie there was a mutual 
and silent agreement to banish the vexed question 
of his engagement entirely from their conversa- 


Qg HANGING MOSS. 

tion. Leonie had the settled conviction that she 
would never again be disturbed by it. 

Martha had accepted the situation less easily. 
She had returned from that journey to the Vic- 
toria Strasse, which she had undertaken that 
spring day to convince herself of Hugo’s infidel- 
ity, with a severe illness and a high fever, which 
kept her confined to her bed for three weeks. 

Hugo inquired three and four times a day as 
to her condition. He was sorry for her. But he 
was revelling in the delight of his blissful perfidy. 
All his thoughts and feelings were centred in 
Leonie and in the third act of his play, which was 
nearing completion. There was little left for 
Martha. He was glad when, in answer to his 
regular question, “ And how is Martha ? ” he 
received the invariable reply, ^‘A little better, 
thank God ! ” He repeated, “ Thank God ! ” and 
returned, relieved and light-hearted, to his desk — 
or to his Leonie. 

Martha’s bodily weakness was a mental 
strengthening to her. She had ample time to 
think the matter over in the long hours of day- 
light, and in the sleepless hours of the intermi- 
nable nights. 

How many moving, eloquent speeches she 
thought over which would show him the baseness 


HANGING MOSS. 


99 


of his conduct, and which would bring him back 
penitent to her once more ! How many affecting 
letters she had written him in her mind, which 
must impress him, touch him, shame him ! 

But poor Martha belonged to that unfortunate 
class of people whose strength fails them on the 
road leading from resolve to action, whose feel- 
ings are deep and noble but whose power of 
expression is awkward and commonplace. She 
knew perfectly well what she wished to say, but 
what she actually said fell far short of what she 
had intended to say, and not until it was too late 
did she remember the speeches she had planned. 

When Hugo was first permitted to see the 
convalescent, her sobs would have melted the 
heart of a stone. She sat in the great wicker 
chair by the window, near the flower-stand with 
the India-rubber plant and the globe of gold-fish, 
her head resting on the pillows, whose white 
covering made the dreadful pallor of her face 
appear yellow and waxen ; the frail hands folded 
on the shawl which her mother had spread over 
her. Her agony was almost unbearable when she 
saw Hugo. She had so much, so much to say to 
him, and here was the opportunity, for Mrs. Breuer 
had discreetly withdrawn from the room. 

But when Hugo took her thin, cold hand in 


lOO 


HANGING MOSS. 


his, she could not utter a word. She was inca- 
pable of making him understand by so much as a 
silent gesture, or by the withdrawal of her hand, 
what was going on in her mind. And her anger 
at her complete helplessness and impotence found 
vent in bitter tears, in a convulsive trembling and 
sobbing. 

“Come, compose yourself! You are so much 
better, and you will soon be all right again." 
Hugo sought to comfort her, but his soothing 
words failed to carry conviction. He was aghast 
at Martha’s looks. He felt the deepest compas- 
sion for the unhappy child. And when he saw 
her tears flow, and the frail body shaken with sobs, 
he was really touched ; he bit his lips to master 
his emotion. He suffered unspeakably under the 
lie which still cemented the relations between 
Martha and him. Dared he tell the poor child the 
truth — the truth that he had made a terrible mis- 
take when he had believed that he loved her ; that 
he shuddered at the thought of binding himself 
to her for life ; that he loved another — Leonie — to 
whom his whole heart was given, without whom 
he could neither work nor live ? Dared he tell 
her the truth ? 

Impossible ! It would have been too cruel. 
As he looked at the frail, sobbing girl whom a 


HANGING MOSS. 


lOI 


rough wind would blow away, he knew he must 
choose between the saving lie and the deadly 
truth, and he chose the lie. 

“ Come, cheer up, my poor Martha,” he re- 
peated many times, stroking the thin hand. 

Everything will be soon all right again.” Mar- 
tha shook her head. ‘‘Yes, it will, surely. You 
must only be reasonable, and not excite yourself 
so. You must get well, above everything. You 
have nothing else to do but that. But it is occu- 
pation enough, and a serious one, too! You 
must not give way so, dear Martha ; you must 
fight against your physical weakness with all 
your mental strength. Do not cry any more.” 

Martha dried her tears. Her heart was so 
full that she must unburden it to Hugo. She 
struggled for words, but none came. At last she 
managed to bring out the words : 

“ I saw you— that day— when you went to her.” 

Hugo understood in a moment what she 
meant. But he pretended ignorance, and in order 
to gain time he said : 

“ What do you mean ? You saw me that day ? 
What day ? ” 

“ Before I became so ill— the day after we went 
to the Reichshalle. I saw you there— in the Vic- 
toria Strasse.” 


102 


HANGING MOSS. 


“ Yes ? Well, and then ? ” 

“ Then," Martha repeated, entirely taken aback 
by Hugo’s self-possession, “ I saw you enter her 
house." 

“ That is quite natural if you were in the Vic- 
toria Strasse at that hour. I had made an appoint- 
ment with Mrs. Welsheim, and was on hand punct- 
ually. 

“ But you told me that you were going to meet 
a friend." 

“ It is true I did tell you that, but because I 
wished to spare you any unnecessary agitation. 
Now I have no further reason for keeping the 
truth from you. I went to Mrs. Welsheim in order 
to convince myself as to what your relations were 
likely to be, and to act accordingly. I came away 
with the conviction that no friendly relations could 
exist between you two, and I have also given Mrs. 
Welsheim to understand that we should not make 
her the call we owed her, and she understood me 
perfectly. I have resolved on my course. As it 
would be very ungrateful to suddenly leave off 
going to a house in which I have received nothing 
but kindness, I have decided to gradually break 
off all intercourse with the Welsheims until the in- 
timacy ceases of itself. Now you know all ; but 
you must trust me, and not torment us both with 


HANGING MOSS. 


103 

foolish whims. We’ll not speak of the matter 
again. It is the most sensible plan.” 

It all sounded so sincere, so simple and reason- 
able, that Martha was ashamed of having fostered 
such unworthy suspicions of him. The eloquent 
words which had come so freely in her solitary 
hours now forsook her. She could think of no 
answer, and instead pressed Hugo’s hand grate- 
fully in her feeble fingers. She made no further 
mention of Leonie, although the name burned 
upon her lips. She suspected how matters stood 
between the two. With marvellous intuition she 
could almost fix the hours at which they saw each 
other. But she kept silent. She calmed herself 
with the agreeable self-illusion that nothing wrong 
could take place between them. And she gradu- 
ally quieted herself in reality with that thought. 
Thus she finally grew accustomed to Hugo’s ab- 
sences, which had been so dreadful to her at first, 
and, when he returned, did not even ask him where 
he had been. Hugo showed himself grateful for 
this forbearance by redoubled kindness. 

What could she say to him indeed ? Even if 
she had the power to disclose her inmost thoughts 
to him, what would be the inevitable conjecture ? 
That she would be compelled to turn from her 
faithless lover in abhorrence. And the upshot ? 


HANGING MOSS. 


104 

That she would lose him for ever. She shuddered 
even at the idea of this possibility. Strength and 
courage failed her as well. Anything but that ! 
Rather the slow to.rment, rather the degrading 
submission. Anything but a separation. 

She told herself that she was a fool who, in 
self-torment, magnified harmless trifles into guilty 
actions. If that beautiful woman were anything 
to him, it was surely nothing but a passing fancy. 
His heart, that she knew, belonged to her, his 
affianced wife. If it did not, why should he have 
asked her to marry him ? She had laid no trap 
for him. He had come to her of his own free will, 
because he loved her and had perceived the love 
of which she was not conscious. He would return 
to her, even if this woman’s fatal charm had in- 
fatuated him. For he knew very well that no one 
in all the world could love him with such a deep, 
passionate, unselfish love as she, his Martha. 

Summer had come. Berlin was hot and dis- 
agreeable ; the Thiergarten was deserted. Since 
her marriage, Leonie had been accustomed to 
meet her parents every midsummer at Ostend or 
Schweiningen. Welsheim was therefore somewhat 
astonished when his wife informed him one day 
that she found the fashionable baths very tire- 


HANGING MOSS. 


105 


some, that they were simply a continuation in an- 
other form of the feverish city, and that it would 
be much more agreeable to her if she could spend 
the hot days in the vicinity of Berlin in quiet se- 
clusion— perhaps on one of the beautiful Havel 
lakes. She felt that it would do her good. She 
had written to her parents in the same strain, ap- 
pointing her visit for a later date. 

Welsheim had found a pretty villa on the 
Wann See. 

What could have induced Leonie to make this 
strange resolve ? She had always enjoyed her- 
self exceedingly at Ostend. It was certainly not 
easy for her to renounce the pleasure of having 
her gowns admired at the baths. But Hugo had 
repeatedly told her, and in the most emphatic 
terms, that he would not accompany her to Ostend, 
and that he w’ould not leave Berlin. Leonie had 
understood perfectly well that it was only because 
he could not go with her. Money troubles were 
only words to her, but she divined that Hugo 
could not afford a trip to Ostend. She could not 
think of leaving her lover for so long a time. 
Therefore her sudden enthusiasm for the pictur- 
esque suburbs of Berlin. 

Moreover, the idyllic quiet of the Wann See 
agreed with her. Hugo visited her three or four 


I 06 HANGING MOSS. 

times a week, and these were perhaps the happiest 
hours of their lives, as they sat alone together up- 
on the broad veranda, the unruffled surface of the 
lake at their feet, and the dark, fir-clad hills on 
the opposite shores rising before them ; or as they 
wandered through the forest, talking lightly, or 
deep in earnest discussion. Towards six o’clock 
Welsheim returned from the city, laden with 
bundles. He thanked Hugo, with a hearty shake 
of the hand, for shortening the long hours for 
Leonie, and objected when Hugo refused to wait 
for the last train back to Berlin. 

It seemed to them in their happiness that these 
days must go on for ever. But the summer was 
over before they knew it. The evenings were 
already cold and disagreeable, and all the flowers 
in the small garden before the house had faded, 
except the brilliant but stiff and awkward dahlias. 
The time for the first performance of “ Hercules 
and Omphale ” approached. In the last week of 
August the Welsheims returned to the Victoria 
Strasse. 

The parting from the peaceful little house on 
the Wann See was really very hard for Leonie. 
She had never been happier. She told herself with 
incredulous surprise that she was really better than 
she had ever believed herself capable of being. 


HANGING MOSS. 


107 


Her love for Hugo had worked an ennobling 
change, and it was a constant source of joy to her. 
She had never considered herself capable of such 
sincerity and strength of feeling. She was not 
half as frivolous as stupid people believed and as 
she had persuaded herself. Did she not cling to 
him with all the strength of her being, to him 
alone ? Had she one thought that did not belong 
to him ? 

When she asked herself these questions, and 
felt that she could answer them in a way that made 
her calm, happy, and content, she quite forgot that 
as yet her constancy had not been tried. 


CHAPTER VI. 


At last the great day of the first performance 
arrived. It was the last Tuesday in September. 
Leonie had already sent out cards announcing 
that she would be at home on that evening and 
every following Tuesday. She had made special 
efforts to have her first evening at home a brilliant 
one, particularly in honour of Hugo’s play, the 
success of which she did not for a moment doubt. 
The floral decorations were to be of surpassing 
beauty. She had invited some notable people for 
that evening: the artists who were to take the 
leading parts in Hall’s play — a celebrated pianist 
from London, who chanced to be stopping in Ber- 
lin, and the tenor Ernst Vallini, who had made a 
great sensation the last season at the Opera House, 
and had been engaged for the Royal Opera at a 
fabulous salary. The Englishman and the German 
tenor with the Italian name could not refuse Le- 
onie’s request, and had promised to be present at 
her house that evening. 


HANGING MOSS. 


109 

She had done all this in secret. It was to be a 
surprise for every one, but especially for Hugo. 
She had devised numerous other little attentions 
for him. The buffet was arranged about a bronze 
group representing Hercules spinning at the feet 
of Omphale. The bronze was to be Welsheim’s 
first gift to his friend. The play-bill, printed upon 
satin, was to be inserted into the great pastry. It 
goes without saying that the huge laurel wreath, 
with the name of the play and the date of the first 
performance embroidered upon the ribbons, was 
not lacking. 

The keen pleasure she took in these prepara- 
tions subdued the great excitement under which 
she had been labouring these last days, and which 
might have become serious had her mind not been 
taken up with other affairs. She was much more 
excited than Hugo, who was worn out with the 
fatiguing and exhausting work at the rehearsals, 
and had come to regard the great event with a 
certain apathetic calm. 

About two o’clock that afternoon Hugo came 
to her. In order to gain a little rest, she had lain 
down upon the couch in the bow-window room. 
She received him without rising. Hugo kissed the 
hand held out to him, and drawing up an ottoman 
he seated himself close by the couch. 


no 


HANGING MOSS. 


“ I do not need to rise ? " she asked smilingly. 
** I must economise my strength to-day. I shall 
need it all later. But why do you look so 
gloomy?” she added in a changed voice. “You 
should be perfectly happy to-day of all days. 
Don’t worry. Everything will turn out well. Of 
that I am perfectly confident.” 

“ I am thinking less of the play and its fate 
than — ” He paused for an instant. Leonie raised 
herself a little, looked him straight in the eyes, 
and asked, suddenly growing grave : 

“ Of what are you thinking, then ; of what else 
could you be thinking to-day ?” 

“I will tell you frankly. You will readily un- 
stand me. I am in a dilemma. I do not know 
what to do this evening after the performance.” 

“ Oh, you mean in case the play is not success- 
ful ? It would not be pleasant for you to meet 
any one. Well, dear heart, that possibility does 
not come into my calculations at all. You will 
have success, great success — never fear ! And if 
the impossible should happen — well, then we should 
just close the doors, put up a red placard and post- 
pone the drawing-room performance on account 
of the sudden illness of the prima donna. There 
wouldn’t be any fibbing about it, for I should be 
really ill. But failure is not to be thought of.” 


HANGING MOSS. 


Ill 


“ Even if everything should go off as favoura- 
bly as you hope,” Hugo answered hesitatingly, 
even then I should still be in an extremely diffi- 
cult position.” 

Leonie now raised herself upright and looked 
at him in amazement. 

“ I do not understand you, really I do not. 
What do you mean ? ” 

“ What shall I do after the performance ? ” 
Hugo cried, starting up with a vehement gesture. 

“ What shall you do ? You are to come to me, 
of course. That is very simple.” 

Not as simple as you think. You know—” 
He hesitated, and then said softly, in a deeper tone, 
“ I have obligations.” 

It was the first time that Leonie had perceived 
any trace of these obligations. She had forgotten, 
with the lapse of time, that any one but she had 
any claim on Hugo. Her first impulse was to give 
violent utterance to her indignation, but she 
mastered her feelings, and after a long pause said 
languidly : 

Well ? ” 

“ The affair is disagreeable to me in the ex- 
treme, but what am I to do ? I do not need to 
tell you where my inclinations would lead me. I 

had not thought of spending the evening with any 
8 


12 


HANGING MOSS. 


one but you. But — an hour ago — as I was giving 
Mrs. Breuer the tickets, she said to me as she 
thanked me : ‘ And to-night, after the performance, 
we want to have a nice little time together and 
celebrate your success. Martha has been looking 
forward to it for weeks. She has prepared a little 
remembrance for you, but I tell you in confidence.' 
I was entirely taken aback and could think of no 
other words than ‘ Of course, of course.' What 
am I to do ? Advise me." 

Leonie let her glance wander restlessly around 
the room, bent forward a little, and then said in an 
unusually grave tone : 

“Yes, my friend, here I must step aside, much 
as it pains me to do so. I must confess that I am 
very, very sorry. I cannot disguise it. All those 
who are coming to-night after the play expect to 
find you here. Your absence amounts to the vir- 
tual announcement of your engagement, and at 
the same time you are anxious to conceal it. Of 
myself and my feelings I will not speak. As I 
have said, I am heartily sorry." 

Leonie had also risen and rustled by him, the 
long train of her tea-gown sweeping the carpet. 

“You are angry with me?" Hugo asked de- 
jectedly, without having the courage to approach 
her. 


HANGING MOSS. 


II3 

Not angry. I am only very sad. One should 
never look forward to anything with too much 
pleasure. I certainly do not want to annoy you 
to-day, but you can surely understand that it must^ 
grieve and distress me that we cannot enjoy this 
evening together. Perhaps there is also a little 
vanity concerned. How shall I look when in re- 
ply to my husband’s and each individual guest’s 
very natural question, ‘Well, and where is Dr. Hall 
this evening?’ I shall be forced to answer, ‘The 
doctor has accepted another invitation.’ It will be 
exceedingly awkward, and there is no doubt but 
what people will imagine Heaven knows what 
violent scenes to have passed between us.” 

“I have said the same thing to myself. I 
hardly dare repeat to you the mad expedients that 
have flashed through my brain in order to free 
myself from this odious situation. I would not 
shrink from the most extreme measures — not even 
from breaking off my engagement — ” 

Leonie looked at him sharply. 

“But it is impossible,” he continued — “impos- 
sible, with such brutal suddenness. Martha is a 
poor, frail girl. The blow would crush her. And 
if for a long time she has not been to me what she 
should have been — for I love you only, Leonie, 
you alone — yet I still have a strong enough feel- 


HANGING MOSS. 


1 14 

ing of true friendship and humanity for the poor 
child, who has never given me a moment’s pain, to 
shrink from causing her death. That is not an 
exaggeration. It is the bitter truth. How should 
I feel if, when at your side and taking part in your 
brilliant festivities, I should be conscious that at 
the same time that poor child was struggling with 
death, and that I was the cause of it ? I have 
never thought of Martha when I have been with 
you. To-night the thought of her would force 
itself between you and me, destroying all our 
pleasure.” 

My dear Hugo, we might talk an hour with- 
out advancing a step. We must yield to the in- 
evitable. Perhaps we can still devise some means 
of giving the unfortunate affair at least a plausible 
appearance to our guests.” 

“ If I should come later ? ” 

“ How long, in all probability, would you have 
to remain there ? ” 

“ Oh, I can easily find an excuse for cutting my 
stay short— Martha’s health. I can say I have 
made an appointment with the actors for a later 
hour. That will sound plausible enough. I can 
surely get away by midnight.” 

“ Well, then, write me a few lines. Plead nerv- 
ousness. You are too agitated to meet any one 


HANGING MOSS. 


immediately after the performance. You must 
rest a bit— be alone an hour or so. You are com- 
ing later ! I proceed to make a little fun of you. 
You are a genius in whom one must pardon any- 
thing and everything. And when you really do 
make your appearance — about midnight — people 
will find everything perfectly natural.” 

“Yes, that will be all right ! ” Hugo exclaimed ; 
“ it is such a relief ! 1 had thought of the same 

thing, but I feared that you would be too angry to 
understand my position, and your anger would be 
perfectly justifiable. I did not have the courage 
to propose this plan to you. I thank you, Leonie, 
with all my heart. You truly love me. I have 
never doubted it, but I thank you for this new 
proof of your love.” 

He went towards Leonie, who was slowly 
tearing off the petals of a gloire de Dijon rose, 
and bent his head to kiss her. She offered him 
her forehead, but he felt that she drew back 
involuntarily as soon as his lips brushed her 
face. 

“ You are right in not doubting my love,” she 
said. Her voice had a different tone. “And now 
I must sei.d you away — Felix may come at any 
moment — I do not care to discuss this disagreeable 
subject again before him — Then I shall see you 


ii6 


HANGING MOSS. 


this evening — at the theatre — and I may expect 
you here about midnight ? ” 

“ Good-bye, Leonie. And now, before I go, let 
me tell you once more how much I thank you, 
how much I love you. Whatever the result of the 
play may be, I owe everything to you.” 

He drew her to him and kissed her passion- 
ately. 

“ I have nothing to say to you. You know 
how I feel ! Go, dearest — we shall see each other 
— during the fight — and after the victory.” 

When Hugo had left her she sat down in the 
bow window and stared at the rainy skies. She 
was very grave, but her face was stern rather than 
sad. Her meditations could be summed up in these 
words : “ Things cannot go on like this any longer. 
I will not endure a rival.” 

She felt a genuine pleasure to-day when she 
heard Welsheim’s voice in the adjoining room. He 
was giving a servant some further directions for 
the evening. She went to the door of the great 
drawing-room and called him. Felix hastened to 
her and kissed her on the forehead — as it chanced, 
upon the same spot which Hugo’s lips had touched 
a quarter of an hour before. But this time she 
did not draw back. 

“ Can you spare me ten minutes ? she said. 


HANGING MOSS. 


II7 

“ How can you ask such a thing ? I am always 
at your service.” 

“ Well, come and sit down here beside me. I 
have something serious I want to talk over with 
you — about your friend, Dr. Hall. You know that 
I like him very much, and I am uneasy about 
him.” 

‘‘ How is that ? ” 

‘‘ He has just gone. He came to make his 
excuses for this evening.” 

‘‘What! The doctor is not coming? That is 
simply impossible. And our guests ? And the 
bronze group I sent for ? ” 

“ I have arranged that he is to come at a later 
hour, and have invented a plausible excuse for his 
delay — but enough of that — it is something else 
that disturbs me. He wasn’t coming because the 
girl in the Briider Strasse — you know, his fiancee — ” 

“ Miss Breuer ? ” 

“ Because Miss Breuer expects him to stay with 
her this evening. Of course, he would much 
rather come to us. He takes this engagement 
very seriously, although I am positive that he does 
not and cannot love the girl. He thinks he is 
bound by a hasty promise. I think something 
should be done.” 


“ You are perfectly right.” 


ii8 


HANGING MOSS. 


“You have seen the girl, feeble, sickly, insig- 
nificant — and then, too, the surroundings, the pov- 
erty and want. The doctor would simply be 
ruined. A marriage with that unfortunate person 
would be nothing less than the death-blow to his 
future.” 

“ Yes, yes. I fear that too.” 

“ And should his best friends look on without 
raising a hand ? ” 

“No ; but what is to be done? Shall I speak 
seriously to the doctor ? I flatter myself that I 
have some influence with him.” 

“ I do not undervalue your influence, but I fear 
that it will be very difficult to find an opportunity 
of approaching the doctor. I have thought it over 
carefully, and I have another idea. The girl is 
undoubtedly consumptive; the transparent skin, 
the waxen colouring, the red spots upon the cheeks, 
the unnatural brilliancy of the eyes — there isn’t a 
doubt of it. It is sad, but true nevertheless. The 
poor child must be sent south, to a milder climate. 
It is evident that the mother only lacks the money. 
That money you must place at her disposal, under 
any pretext, as long as it is a plausible one. We 
shall not go hungry if we have a few thousand 
marks or so less, and to these people it is a fortune. 
When the widow is once settled with her daughter 


HANGING MOSS. 


1 19 

at Meran, Montreux, or San Remo, then you have 
the game in your own hands. Then the doctor 
may listen to a word of reason. Then will be the 
time to bring your influence to bear upon him. 
But it would be the most honourable thing to 
speak seriously with the mother first. If she loves 
her child she will take the initiative herself." 

“Yes, yes, I understand perfectly. Of course, 
I am ready to place the money at the mother’s 
disposal, so that she may remain in the south with 
her daughter half a year, or a whole year, as far 
as I am concerned. The only thing that worries 
me is how I am to offer it to her." 

“ A mother will overlook anything if she can 
help her child. After all, it is not necessary for you 
to pose as the benefactor. You might arrange it 
through a third person, the family physician, or— 
some one. You are so clever ! Now that you are 
convinced that something must be done for the 
doctor, you will find the right way. Anything you 
may do will suit me." 

“ Yes, yes," Welsheim said, thoughtfully strok- 
ing his chin. “ We will soon arrange that. I am 
getting the matter straight in my head. And I 
tell you we must lose no time. Such matters must 
not be given a back seat. I am sorry that I can t 
see to it at once ; but of course it will not do to- 


120 


HANGING MOSS. 


day ! Well, there is still to-morrow. I will look 
up the widow and tell her. Leave the matter 
to me. To change the subject. The feeling in 
favour of Hall's play was very strong on 'change 
to-day, and I may say I have done my share. 
Nothing else was spoken of. Nothing else — that is 
a little too strong ! Our first evening will make a 
furore, I tell you ! Twenty people have asked me, 
* Is it really true that Vallini is to be at your house 
to-night, and is to sing ? ’ It will be a great thing, I 
promise you ! It seems that Vallini has never sung 
before at any private house. In the spring he 
flatly refused to sing at the privy councillor Gen- 
thiner’s, who offered him a pile of money. He 
will not back out at the last moment ! ” 

''You need not fear! But that reminds me 
that I have a great many things still to attend to 
for the evening.” 

" Of course, of course. So have I. I saw the 
decorations when I stopped at the florist’s a few 
moments ago. They are beautiful ! He is coming, 
with two men, punctually at seven. The caterer 
has also promised. Well, everything will be all 
right. I really wanted— it was an idea of mine— 
to have the ices served in the shape of Hercules 
and Omphale.” 

" Good heavens ! ” Leonie cried, in horror. 


HANGING MOSS. 


I2I 


“It wouldn’t do. I had to give it up. The 
caterer thought they would be monstrosities ; in a 
word, it wouldn’t do. I decided on the traditional 
swan for Vallini’s table — an allusion to Lohengrin, 
you understand. The caterer offered me a Minerva 
with the owl, symbol of poetry, he said, for Hall’s 
table, but I objected to it ; it was too complicated 
for me.” 

“ You did quite right. We dine at half past 
five to-night.” 

“Very well.” 

“ Order the carriage for a quarter of seven.” 

“ I have already done so. I will not keep you 
any longer now ; you must have enough to do. 
You are really a genius as a hostess. And your 
gown ? ” 

“ Do not fear. I shall not disgrace you.” 

“ I know, I know ! If I were only as sure of 
everything! Well, until half past five; I will be 
ready before that. You will not have to wait for 
me.” 

He kissed his wife and withdrew hurriedly, as 
was his wont. 

Leonie conferred for the last time with the 
cook and the butler. The piano-tuner, who was 
at work on the Steinway in the great drawing- 
room, drove her away from the front of the house, 


122 


HANGING MOSS. 


and she fled to her dressing-room, where Germaine 
was busied in laying out the gown which had come 
from Worth’s only that morning. The maid had 
that peculiar adoring smile on her face which was 
reserved for her mistress and her mistress’s gowns 
only. 


CHAPTER VII. 


It was perfect weather for a first night. The 
evening was very cool, almost cold. It had rained 
heavily during the day. For an hour or so the 
rain had ceased, but^ the heavens were still dark. 

In the brightly lighted theatre it was cosy and 
warm. By a quarter of seven the parquet and boxes 
began to fill. The box office had not been opened 
at all, and the speculators who had been doing a 
rushing business ha4 become invisible even before 
seven. 

All glasses were turned upon Leonie, who ap- 
peared in her box with exceptional punctuality. 
She did not seem to notice the general attention 
she attracted. She was perfectly unaffected, and 
graciously welcomed the two gentlemen she had 
invited to her box — Dr. Ringstetter and Mr. von 
Janow, a young sportsman and general favourite 
in Berlin society. She looked charming. Wels- 
heim felt highly flattered as he noticed the sen- 
sation made by his beautiful wife. 


124 


HANGING MOSS. 


The excitement which had again mastered 
Leonie sent a brilliant colour to her cheeks. Slow- 
ly fanning herself, she exchanged a few indifferent 
remarks with the gentlemen back of her — in order to 
show herself in profile — then she raised her opera 
glass to her eyes, nodded to her acquaintances, 
and smiled with marked affability as she answered 
the strikingly profound bow of a gentleman who 
sat in the box directly opposite. This gentleman 
shared with Leonie the honour of attracting the at- 
tention of the audience, particularly the feminine 
portion. Everything about the man was as ex- 
traordinary as his bow — his face, his figure, his 
apparel, his manner, his gestures. His face was 
not remarkable, but might be called handsome ; 
at least the women found it so. The features 
were regular, the eyes large and bright, the col- 
ouring healthy. The thick, brown hair was care- 
fully arranged and curled. A bold twist that had 
been given to the heavy, fair mustache, turned 
up impudently at the corners of the mouth, leav- 
ing the upper lip perfectly bare. The man smiled 
a great deal, perhaps a little too amiably, showing 
two rows of magnificent white teeth as he did so. 
The rounded cheeks gave the face something of 
a feminine appearance. The shirt, which was cut 
low so as to leave the unusually powerful throat 


HANGING MOSS. 


125 


bare, was fastened in front with three large, flash- 
ing diamonds. The broad cravat was loosely tied 
with scrupulous negligence. His dress coat was 
of the latest fashion’s most extravagant cut. He 
moved about a great deal, talking vivaciously. 
Any one who regarded him closely could see that 
he felt himself to be the centre of observation. 
His deep bow to Leonie was noticed by the entire 
parquet. 

“ These artists do everything differently from 
ordinary mortals,” Leonie said, turning around 
again. “Did you notice how Vallini bowed to 
me?” 

“ Did I notice it ? ” Ringstetter answered ; “ he 
bows just like — a masculine prima donna.” 

“ You must not make any wicked remarks about 
him at present. You know that you are to meet 
him to-night at my house. I have to treat him 
well.” 

“ To-night ? Then we shall have more to say 
about him to-morrow. Vallini is accustomed to 
good treatment.” 

“ So I have heard,” Leonie replied. “ He is 
said to turn all the women’s heads. That is suffi- 
cient to prevent me from having any fear of meet- 
ing him.” 

“Well, he is supposed to be something of a 


126 


HANGING MOSS. 


Pied Piper, or a Postillion of Longjumeau,” Von 
Janow threw in. “ Have you heard him sing ? ” 

‘‘Naturally. And he has charmed me as he 
has every one. He has a wonderful voice ; I have 
never heard a better Maurice. The artist carried 
me away, but the man does not interest me. But 
I forget. I may not say that yet ! I cannot en- 
dure handsome men.” 

“ Indeed Ringstetter asked, with a malicious 
smile. 

“You mean to make fun of me on account of 
my friendship for Dr. Hall ? Do you know, I do 
not think the doctor at all handsome ? He looks 
intelligent, interesting, but not, according to my 
taste, handsome. Vallini is handsome, and that is 
why he does not please me, as enthusiastic as I am 
about his voice and his singing.” 

“ That is really so,” Welsheim affirmed. “ My 
wife is really queer in that respect. I ought to 
know her if any one does. She cares absolutely 
nothing for handsome men.” 

“You undervalue yourself,” answered Ring- 
stetter, and, turning to Leonie, he added, “ For a 
lady for whom Vallini has no charms, you have 
been coquetting with him pretty violently ! ” 

In fact, the two had been smiling at each other 
very meaningly. 


HANGING MOSS. 


127 


** He is to sing for us to-night, you know,” 
Leonie retorted. “ In such case, one must make 
special efforts. What are we waiting for ? It must 
be long past seven.” 

“ You see the audience has not settled down yet. 
People had to come in carriages, on account of the 
bad weather, and that always causes a delay. Be- 
sides, the fifteen minutes of grace are not yet up,” 
Ringstetter said, after giving a glance at his watch. 

By no person in the house was Leonie observed 
with closer attention than by Martha Breuer, who 
sat with her mother in the parquet, at the left of 
the entrance, on the side of the house opposite the 
Welsheims’ box, and directly beneath Vallini. She 
was prepared for meeting Leonie again to-night, 
and had been continually on the lookout for her. 
As she saw Leonie enter the box, her breath 
stopped short, she grew pale, and pressed her lips 
tightly together to suppress the sigh that struggled 
through them. Her large eyes grew unnaturally 
brilliant, and she felt the same frightful chill in 
the left side and the same piercing pain as before. 
The sight of Leonie was torturing to her, but she 
could not look away. She envied the woman 
above her — her beauty, her vivacity, her superb 
toilet, her unaffected self-possession. She was en- 
raged that this Leonie could chatter and laugh. 


128 


HANGING MOSS. 


nodding and looking about her, as she was now 
doing. She did not stop to think how much more 
enraged she would have been had she noticed any 
sign of excitement in Leonie’s manner. 

In truth, Leonie was much more excited than 
Martha. Martha did not take into account the im- 
portance of this evening to Hugo, while Leonie 
knew exactly what depended upon it. 

The bell back of the stage struck. The muffled 
murmur subsided at once. Perfect silence fol- 
lowed. A second stroke of the bell, and the cur- 
tain was drawn up with a rustle. 

Leonie was in a fever during the first scene, to 
which the audience listened attentively, but with- 
out visible signs of approval. She was inwardly 
enraged at this cold indifference, at this want of 
appreciation. It appeared incomprehensible to her 
that some of the most charming touches in the 
dialogue, which she had felt most sure of, scarcely 
called forth a smile of approbation. 

Suddenly she realised the possibility of failure, 
and in her overexcited brain she saw that fright- 
ful phantom in horrible distinctness, saw the mali- 
cious and derisive faces about her, heard the sharp 
hisses of ridicule and scorn. 

Her blood grew cold, her lips trembled. She 
seemed to be far away. Something came between 


HANGING MOSS. 


129 


her and the stage, like a thick veil, cutting it from 
view. She scarcely knew what was going on before 
her, although she knew the play by heart. With 
no other purpose than to hide her consternation 
and to give herself a mental support, she raised 
her operaglass to her eyes and looked straight 
before her. She stared into vacancy, seeing noth- 
ing. But suddenly her attention was arrested. 
She now became conscious that she had been star- 
ing steadfastly for some time at the person oppo- 
site to her. 

Vallini felt flattered. He smiled caressingly, 
closed his eyes several times slowly and signifi- 
cantly, and stroked his heavy mustache in a way 
that had some similarity to a stealthy kiss of the 
hand. And when he noticed that Leonie still 
kept her glance fixed on him, he grew bolder 
and raised his own glass. Just at this moment 
Leonie started from her trance. She suddenly 
saw close before her two large circular disks 
which reflected the subdued light of the great 
chandelier ; saw the gleaming teeth behind the 
half-opened lips — parted in a peculiar smile. She 
was startled, and quickly lowered her glasses. 

Ah, this Vallini had chosen a good moment in 
which to cast amorous looks at her ! He ought to 
be listening; he ought to give himself up to the 


130 


HANGING MOSS. 


influence of Hugo’s creation instead of gaping at 
her in that self-satisfied way, and casting sheep’s 
eyes at her. 

And these were the people for whom poor 
Hugo had to write ! These were his judges ! 
This confident coxcomb, who, fancying himself 
irresistible, had presumed to think that she would 
give him any special marks of favour, suddenly 
became intolerable to her. 

Martha had gradually forgotten all about 
Leonie. The play entirely engrossed her atten- 
tion. She gave no thought to her surroundings, 
and could not have told whether the audience was 
cold or sympathetic. She was astonished at the 
cleverness of the dialogue, and was proud to think 
that it was Hugo’s work. 

Towards the close of the first act the audience 
had warmed up considerably, and when the cur- 
tain fell the applause was loud and hearty. The 
actors were twice called before the curtain. 
Martha had not expected anything else, and joy- 
ously applauded with the rest. Leonie was quite 
taken aback by the unexpected change. She 
breathed freely once more, and gave an embar- 
rassed smile to think that she could have made 
such a mistake. 

There was only a short interval between the 


HANGING MOSS. 


13I 

first and second acts. The audience remained 
seated, but the conversation was so lively and 
noisy that those versed in the ways of the 
theatre already ventured to predict a gratifying 
success. 

The only one who left his seat was Vallini. 
Almost immediately after there was a knock at 
the Welsheims’ box. 

The handsome tenor entered, smiling as ever, 
bowed to the men, and kissed Leonie’s hand. 

“ I only wished to inquire after the health of 
my gracious patroness ; and may I ask how you 
are enjoying yourself ?” 

Leonie, to whom at this moment any conver- 
sation was obnoxious, was vexed at Vallini’s visit, 
and answered only with a smile. 

‘‘Yes, just so,” Vallini proceeded, as though 
Leonie had made some reply to his question. “ It 
seems to be taking. I have found it very nice— 
until now, at least.” 

Leonie looked at the tenor in perfect amaze- 
ment. This man found Hugo’s intellectual cre- 
ation “ very nice.” The words struck her like an 
actual injury. Vallini caught her strange look, 
but he misinterpreted it, and said disparagingly, 
I say, until now. We shall see how it turns out 
later on. The play seems a little too sober, to me. 


132 


HANGING MOSS. 


There is not enough to laugh at ; and when I go 
to the theatre I want to laugh.” 

He seemed to pride himself on this sentence, 
for he smiled and showed his teeth, and looked at 
the four occupants of the box, one after another, 
as though he had uttered a weighty remark, and 
expected them to agree with him. 

“ I saw a play in Munich a short time ago,” 
he went on, and then, breaking off the sentence 
he had begun, he remarked to Leonie : “ No 

doubt you have read that I was in Munich ? All 
the papers were full of it. What a success I had 
there — it was simply stupendous! Even royalty 
had the graciousness to treat me with marked 
favour. I had the honour of singing three times 
before his Majesty— twice at Schloss-Berg, once 
in Hohenschwangau. Each time I was sent for 
in the royal carriage. My colleagues, who had 
always treated me charmingly, were simply beside 
themselves! On the day of my departure his 
Majesty sent me, by the court marshal personally, 
a magnificent watch, with the royal cipher in 
brilliants, and accompanied with the most flatter- 
ing words of recognition. Ah ! to be sure — I can 
show it to you. I happen to have it with me.” He 
drew out a very valuable watch, which he loosened 
from its chain with a dexterity plainly acquired by 


HANGING MOSS. 


133 


frequent practice, and handed it over to Leonie 
with the words, “ It strikes the hours, the quarter 
hours, and the minutes.” 

Leonie took the proffered watch with a pre- 
occupied smile. The man beside her was simply 
odious to her. She was to trouble herself with his 
diamond-set repeater — now, when Hugo was stand- 
ing behind the scenes in a fever of excitement, 
when the decisive battle was being fought. 

“ Really very beautiful,” she contented herself 
with saying, for the sake of making some remark. 
And after she had held the watch in her hand just 
long enough not to appear discourteous, she gave 
it back to the fortunate possessor with the words, 
** It is very beautiful.” 

“ Pray, my dear sirs, there is no harm in hand- 
ling it,” Vallini said, and passed the precious ob- 
ject over to the three gentlemen for their inspec- 
tion. Turning to Leonie, he went on : ^‘I shall be 
very much interested in meeting the author at 
your house to-night. These authors have an easy 
time of it ! They write when they please, what 
they please, as they please — in a dressing-gown, if 
it suits them. We of my profession have to bring 
our whole personality to bear upon our work. We 
are dependent upon all manner of things — on our 
fellow-artists, on the orchestra, the acoustics of 


134 


HANGING MOSS. 


the hall, and on the weather ! In Dresden, where 
I sang a short time ago with immense success — 
you have probably read of it in the newspapers ? — 
there has not been such a success there in years, 
the worthy Saxons simply went crazy. What was 
I going to say ? Ah, yes. In Dresden I had to 
give up my last performance because I had taken 
cold — just a simple cold. A cold is a trifle to an 
ordinary person-— an author or an artist, for in- 
stance. He stays at home, drinks chamomile tea, 
and the matter is settled. For us it is a loss of 
so and so much ; and, apart from this consideration 
— Heaven knows I am not conceited, but yet it is 
annoying to have to renounce all the ovations 
that had been prepared for me— on account of a 
stupid cold ! It was to have been a grand night. 
More than a dozen laurel wreaths were sent to 
me at the hotel, notwithstanding, ribbons and all. 
They were simply magnificent. But still it is not 
the same thing, is it ? And the entire court had 
announced its intention of being present. You 
can imagine what an unfortunate thing it was for 
me ! His Majesty graciously remarked, when the 
change of performance was announced ; ‘ It is too 
bad ! I had looked forward to the evening.’ His 
Majesty had looked forward to the evening ! And 
all on account of a miserable cold ! ” 


HANGING MOSS. 


135 


The lights were turned down, and the stroke of 
the bell proclaimed the beginning of the second act. 

** Excuse me,” Vallini broke off, “ I do not 
wish to disturb my neighbours. We shall see each 
other again.” 

He withdrew with a deep bow. 

Leonie gave a sigh of relief as he left and 
closed the door behind him. 

Ringstetter and Janow smiled thoughtfully, 
and exchanged expressive looks. Welsheim re- 
marked leniently, “ He has such a magnificent 
voice, and is to sing at our house to-night.” 

During the second act the success of the play 
was assured. The well-conceived plot held the 
attention, and the effective closing scene produced 
a strong impression, which was made evident by a 
burst of stormy applause at the fall of the curtain. 

After repeated calls of the actors, the demands 
for the author became uproarious. Hall needed 
pressing, but his opposition was soon overcome, 
and as he appeared behind the footlights, led by 
the actress to whom he owed much of the success 
of his play, he was greeted by the shouts of the 
entire audience. 

Martha was in a state of perfect bliss. Not 
until now, when she saw her lover on the boards, 
honoured as the hero of the day, did she grasp 


136 


HANGING MOSS. 


somewhat the full meaning of this hour, and a 
thrill of happiness passed over her. Her great eyes 
sparkled more than ever, and the flush on her 
cheeks deepened. But her happiness was only of 
a moment's duration. Hugo knew perfectly well 
where she sat. She thirsted for the look that 
would prove that his love belonged to her. But 
she was crushed by bitter disappointment when 
she saw Hugo, who made a strangely poor figure 
on the stage, and bowed with unusual awkward- 
ness, cast a rapid glance towards the opposite side 
of the house, and look up with a peculiar expres- 
sion towards the first row of boxes — there, where 
Leonie sat. Martha saw, too, how the brilliant 
woman caught the look, and answered it with a 
slow, languid lowering of the lids, and a scarcely 
perceptible inclination of the head. Martha was 
very wretched, and her hand went mechanically to 
her side. Again she felt that horrible coldness 
which was so hard to bear. 

The spectators rose noiselessly to mingle in 
the narrow corridors, to express their opinions on 
the play, to parade their wisdom, to learn the 
latest bonmot of the cleverest wit and to carry 
it farther. The general opinion was highly in 
favour of the piece and its author. Even the 
critics seemed to be satisfied. They maintained 


HANGING MOSS. 


137 


an encouraging silence. The only unfavourable 
comments came from a few unsuccessful brother 
playwrights, and those managers who did not have 
the play in charge. 

While Martha sat there with bowed head, and 
stared at the empty seats before her, Leonie was 
holding court in her box. She was radiant with 
pleasure, and received the homage of the number- 
less callers as a matter of course. They congratu- 
lated her on the success of the play as though it 
were her own work. She had entirely recovered 
her self-possession, and was no longer angry at 
Vallini, who appeared in the box for a couple of 
minutes to announce that the piece was to be 
played in magnificent style in Hamburg. He had 
recently seen an actress there who was cut out for 
the part of the heroine. 

“ Hamburg of all places ! ” he continued. 
“ That is the city for theatres. You have prob- 
ably read in the papers how they feted me there. 
It was simply stupendous ! I have signed a con- 
tract for next year — but under very different 
terms,” he added, smiling. I see no reason why 
we should sing money into the managers’ pockets 
alone. We artists devote everything to our work 
— our whole souls, our heart’s blood. Am I not 
right ? ” 


138 


HANGING MOSS. 


<‘Of course you are right,” answered Ring- 
stetter, with imperturbable gravity. “ Heart’s 
blood cannot be paid highly enough. And you 
forget the divine afflatus — ” 

“ Yes, indeed ! Ah, there I see a lady to whom 
I have long owed a call. You will excuse me ? ” 

With a kiss of the hand and a courteous bow, 
Vallini took his leave, to make room for the next 
caller. 

“The happy man!” Janow exclaimed as he 
left. 

“ There is Mrs. Welsheim,” said Mrs. Breuer to 
her daughter. 

“Indeed?” replied Martha, absently and wea- 
rily. 

“ She is making herself rather conspicuous,” 
added the widow. 

Martha turned her head slowly towards Leo- 
nie’s box. 

“ She seems to be very much pleased at Hugo’s 
success,” observed Martha indifferently. 

“ But the play is really too beautiful, and how 
different everything seems ou the stage ! I can 
hardly wait for the last act. Hugo did not read 
us that. I was surprised at it, but now I am glad. 
We have the pleasure still in store for us — But 
you are so quiet, child. Don’t you feel well ?” 


HANGING MOSS. 


139 

Why yes, mamma. But I can only express so 
badly what I should like to say.” 

“ Don’t exert yourself. You must be fresh 
after the play. Child, I am very happy. This is 
really the happiest evening I have spent in a long, 
long time.” 

^‘Yes, mamma.” 

In the mean time the house had gradually filled 
again. Only a few stragglers pushed through the 
narrow rows in the parquet. In kindly suspense 
and expectant silence the audience awaited what 
was to follow. And the expectation was not 
disappointed. Until the middle of the act the 
verdict was decidedly favourable. Then came a 
discordant scene which seemed to threaten the 
success of the play. The audience became rest- 
less. Throats were cleared and coughs were 
heard. The invisible bond between the actors on 
the stage and the people in the house relaxed. It 
looked critical in the extreme. But a lucky word 
turned the adverse current into a favourable chan- 
nel again. And from that moment until the end 
the interest mounted steadily, and, when the cur- 
tain fell for the last time, a perfect storm of ap- 
plause broke out. Leonie was right; it was a 
great, a startling success. 

Three, four times was Hall forced to show 


140 


HANGING MOSS. 


himself on the stage — at first with the company, 
finally alone — and each time his appearance was 
greeted with a salvo of applause. Each time he 
bowed in a somewhat awkward manner, at first 
to every one in general, then with a stolen glance 
towards Leonie’s box in particular. Each time 
Leonie thanked him in the same way — by a slow 
closing of the eyes, a peculiar smile of the half- 
opened mouth — and each time the familiar inter- 
change was feverishly observed by Martha. 

At the moment that Hall was bowing for the 
last time, the thought of Martha suddenly came to 
him. When he lifted his head, he looked in the 
direction where he knew her to be. He was a 
second too late. The falling curtain was already 
so low that he had only time to catch a glimpse of 
the first two rows in the parquet. Then the grey 
canvas separated him from the audience who were 
now crowding the exits. 

The author then received the congratulations 
of the actors, who were delighted over the success 
of the play. He was embraced, even kissed. He 
stammered a few words of thanks, pressed the 
manager’s hands heartily a dozen times, brought 
out his hat, ulster, and umbrella from the cloak- 
room, and then threaded his way slowly and 
thoughtfully through the labyrinth of passages 


HANGING MOSS. 


I4I 

and stairs to the stage exit on the Charlotten 
Strasse. 

The weather had become frightful. It rained 
in torrents. The gleam of the lamps was reflected 
in the small puddles which had formed between 
the stones of the imperfect pavement, and in which 
the falling drops made small concentric rings. It 
had also grown cold. Hugo hardly noticed it. 
His heart was filled with warm sunshine. The 
damp, musty smell of the cab which the porter had 
summoned did not trouble him. His thoughts were 
far away, and he jumped up in astonishment when 
the driver pulled up before the house on the Brii- 
der Strasse. 

As he mounted the stairs again very slowly, a 
feeling of regret came over him that he could not 
go immediately to Leonie ; but he had a genuine 
pity for poor Martha, and it was a certain conso- 
lation that he was now, as he told himself, mak- 
ing a sacrifice for her. If there were only some 
means of telling her the brutal truth : that, al- 
though honouring her good qualities, he could not 
love her, but that his heart was given to another ! 
This duplicity had become unbearable. He must 
make an end of it. If he only knew how he could 
confess his error, how he could atone for it without 
letting the poor girl suffer too cruelly for his fault ! 


142 


HANGING MOSS. 


He put the key in the lock reluctantly. His 
face was very grave. Then he gave himself a 
shake, straightened himself up, passed his hand 
over his eyes as if he were trying to thrust away 
an unpleasant sight, and entered. At the same 
time the door of the sitting-room opened. Martha 
appeared on the threshold, Mrs. Breuer behind her. 
The poor girl could not speak a word ; she flung 
her arms around Hugo’s neck and sobbed as 
though lamenting over some misfortune. Hugo 
was touched, and with him also tears were nearer 
than laughter. 

Slowly and kindly he drew himself from Mar- 
tha’s embrace to advance to the widow, who, 
beaming with joy, was holding out her hand to 
him. As he was about to raise her hand to his 
lips, poor Mrs. Breuer was also overcome ; she 
embraced him heartily and kissed him on both 
cheeks. Martha could not calm herself yet, and 
the heavy sobs still shook the frail body. 

“ Is she not a strange child ? That is how she 
shows her gladness ! ” cried Mrs. Breuer in tender 
reproach. “Be sensible, child! Let Hugo take 
you to supper.” 

Hugo noticed the festal arrangement of the 
table. It was all as well meant as it was poor. In 
addition to the oil-lamp, two lighted candles stood 


HANGING MOSS. 


143 

on the table. The cold meat was there in double 
quantity. At Hugo's place was a pitiful little 
laurel wreath tied with exquisitely embroidered 
ribbons. “To my dear Hugo — Martha,” on the 
one end ; on the other, “ Hercules and Omphale, 
September 30, 1873,” surrounded by oak and 
laurel wreaths. Near Hugo’s plate stood a pint 
bottle of champagne in a bowl which, did duty 
as a wine-cooler. 

Mrs. Breuer rejoiced in secret over Hugo’s 
pleased surprise at the unusual preparations. 

She smiled with self-satisfaction as though she 
would say, “Yes, indeed, we have no need to be 
ashamed of ourselves.” 

Hugo was deeply moved and genuinely 
shamed by Martha’s work. He hardly dared 
express his thanks ; he felt himself unworthy of 
the loving gift. With hearty fervour he kissed the 
small, slender fingers which had performed the 
laborious task with so much skill. 

“ So you are satisfied ? ” he finally began, while 
the widow tormented herself in trying to unfasten 
the wire around the cork. “ And I should be sat- 
isfied, too, should I not ? I think it was really a 
success.” 

“ It was beautiful,” answered Martha, who had 

gradually grown calmer. 

10 


144 


HANGING MOSS. 


“ And what impression did you get from the 
audience ? ” 

“ Dear me ! I paid little attention to them." 

“ But you think the play took well ? " 

“As far as I can judge, yes, but I understand 
so little how to judge the public rightly. You 
must know far better yourself." 

She said it quite simply and openly. But Hugo 
was disappointed. He had looked for an enthusi- 
astic assent to his opinion. 

“And what do you think ?" he asked, turning 
to the window, who had at last extracted the 
troublesome cork. 

“ I think it was a splendid success. It was 
greatly applauded, was it not ? It was certainly a 
success, and let us drink to it, dear Hugo." 

The glasses were not sufficiently cooled, and 
she could only half fill them, for the foam mounted 
to the brim. The glasses clinked. Hugo drained 
his to the dregs, the two women only sipped 
theirs. 

A pause ensued. Hugo was consumed with the 
desire to hear the particulars of the play and its 
effect, and the reception it had met with. Martha, 
also, had a thousand pretty things to say to him, 
but her clumsiness of expression sealed her lips. 
She smiled sadly and nodded to him. 


HANGING MOSS. 


145 

“ Come, help yourselves," urged £he widow, 
who had refilled Hugo's glass. 

** What pleased you the most ? " asked Hugo, 
who had not heard the widow’s exhortation. 

“ The whole play pleased me," answered Mar- 
tha. 

“ Well, yes," replied Hugo, deeply annoyed by 
this unresponsiveness. But everything. does not 
succeed in the same measure. One scene takes a 
hold on the audience, another appeals far less. 
What I mean is, what made the strongest impres- 
sion upon you ? " 

“ I understand," answered Martha, struggling 
for words, “but I really cannot say. I thought 
the first act was the best, but then the second 
pleased me equally well, and the third also." 

“ And the other people, your neighbours, what 
did they say ? " 

“ They also thought everything beautiful, I 
think. But, as I already told you, I paid little 
attention to others. You must ask a wiser one 
than I am." 

Hugo fought against his growing vexation, and 
emptied his glass a second time. 

“ But you are eating nothing at all," urged the 
widow. “ The cold wine on an empty stomach — it 
cannot agree with you." 


146 


HANGING MOSS. 


“ I have no appetite, thank you,” answered 
Hugo. 

He looked at the clock. The minutes dragged 
sluggishly along. He was out of humour, im- 
patient, bored. At this moment he was looked for 
in the most brilliant drawing-rooms in the city. 
There was combined everything that could give 
him pleasure. There were clever men who would 
tell him in keen, fluent words what he longed to 
hear. There were beautiful women who would 
spoil him with sweet words of flattery. There 
was she, Leonie. There he would be surrounded, 
honoured. There he would be the hero of the 
hour. And all the clever men, and all the brilliant 
women, in the splendid surroundings, in the taste- 
ful, luxurious rooms. And here he sat in this 
poor little room, opposite this plain, elderly woman 
in a sober dark dress, next to a silent, feeble girl. 
The two candles sputtered despondently. The 
small bottle, already nearly emptied, heightened 
the depressing influence of the scanty table. The 
richly embroidered ribbons looked at him re- 
proachfully. Was his first triumph to be cele- 
brated like this ? 

Martha saw that Hugo's thoughts had wan- 
dered, that he craved something very different 
from what she could offer him. 


HANGING MOSS. 


147 


Twice she started to say something that would 
please him, and that would revive their spirits. 
But no words passed her lips. 

The conversation dragged slowly and painfully 
along. Hugo scarcely listened to what was being 
said, and talked without knowing what he was 
saying. He was preoccupied, absent-minded. 
Martha knew perfectly well where he was in spirit, 
and when he looked covertly again at the clock the 
painful desire seized her to facilitate his going. 

“ I think it is hardly right that you should 
spend such an evening quietly at home with us.’* 

“ If I may tell you frankly, I have an appoint- 
ment with the actors — it is customary. But there 
is no hurry — I explained that I should probably be 
late ; and if it is at all disagreeable to you — ” 

“I quite understand,” interrupted Martha; ^‘do 
not take us into consideration in the slightest. 
Besides, I could not remain with you much longer. 
I am very tired.” 

She rose, and Hugo followed her example with 
marked alacrity. 

He gratefully kissed her cold forehead, pressed 
the widow’s hand, and was about to take his leave 
as soon as possible, when he remembered Martha’s 
wreath. He turned, stepped to the table, and took 
up the loving, well-meant present. 


148 


HANGING MOSS. 


“ You had better leave the wreath here,” said 
Martha : “ I have still a few little things to do 
to it.” 

“What are you thinking of ? ” cried Hugo, who 
had suddenly recovered his spirits ; “ if you think 
that I will part from my first trophy to-day, you 
are much mistaken. To-morrow, perhaps, I will 
intrust it to you if there is really anything more 
to be done to it. But to-day mine is the wreath, 
and to me it belongs.” 

Martha was silent. 

“ Once more my heartiest thanks, and good 
night,” said Hugo, and hastily left the room. 

The widow shook her head when he had closed 
the door behind him. “ Strange,” she said slowly ; 
“ I had expected a different evening.” 

Martha was wounded to the quick. She felt 
deceived and defrauded. If it were really the 
actors whom he was now going to meet, then she 
would forgive him everything ; but if he were hur- 
rying to that woman, then she must have certain 
proof. 

“ Come, go to bed, mamma ; your eyes are clos- 
ing ! I will see to everything.” 

“ But you said you felt — ” 

“ I only said so to make it easy for Hugo.” 

“Yes, yes— Hugo. Child, do you know, if I 


HANGING MOSS. 


149 

may speak plainly to you, there are many things 
which do not please me.” 

It is late, mamma ; it is almost eleven ! Go 
to bed ! We will talk over all you wish at a more 
suitable time.” 

Well, my child ; and you feel really — ” 

“ Perfectly well. Good night, mamma.” 

Good night, then, dear heart. Do not stay up 
too long. I am really ready to fall with weariness. 
Good night.” 

The widow, who during these last words had 
begun to unfasten her dress, withdrew slowly. 

Martha blew out the candles, put them in their 
old places, cleared the table, and then seated her- 
self on the hard sofa, to indulge in melancholy 
meditation. 

She felt the old pain at her heart, and she 
pressed her hand close to her left side. She heard 
Hugo, who had donned evening dress, leave his 
rooms and run down stairs more noisily than was 
his wont. She also heard the hasty slamming of 
the front door. 


CHAPTER VIII. 


It was still raining. Uncomfortable as the 
Welsheims’ guests must have felt on their way 
there in the cold, damp rain of the autumn night, 
the moment they crossed the threshold a sensation 
of warmth and comfort came over them. The 
broad street door stood open. The staircase was 
as light as day. The arrivals were immediately re- 
lieved of their wet wraps by attentive servants. In 
the tastefully arranged dressing-rooms was to be 
found every requisite for repairing any damage 
the toilets had suffered. 

And the reception-rooms themselves displayed 
an almost overpowering splendour in honour of the 
day. The bow-window room was transformed into 
a veritable flower garden. In the centre of the 
circular divan rose a mass of white camellias and 
deep-red roses of wonderful beauty. The entire 
bow window was changed into a bower of flower- 
ing plants of every variety. Climbing vines crept 
up the sides to the ceiling and wound around the 


HANGING MOSS. 


151 

hanging lamp, which they almost smothered. In 
the great drawing-room the floral decorations were, 
if possible, even more profuse and costly. In the 
four corners stood four huge bronze vases, more 
than a man’s height, of a dark blue tint, around 
which wound golden, scaly monsters, dragons with 
gaping jaws, fantastic crocodiles, and fabulous 
snakes. The gigantic bouquets in these vases 
produced the finest decorative effect of form and 
colour. The decoration of the smaller drawing- 
room adjoining was no less rich and tasteful. The 
dining-room was closed for the time being. 

The guests were enraptured with the beauty 
and fragrance which enveloped them. They were 
doubly susceptible to the comfortable warmth, the 
glittering beauty and brightness, in contrast with 
the rawness and the gloom of the disagreeable 
night, and sipped the hot tea that was offered to 
them immediately on their arrival, with the utmost 
satisfaction. They were all in gay humour, all were 
delighted over the brilliant success of the play. 
Most of them knew Hall personally, the rest 
looked forward with pleasure to making his ac- 
quaintance. Leonie was charmingly captivating in 
her happiness. She allowed the letter which Hugo 
had written at her instigation to go the rounds, 
and jested in the most bewitching manner over 


152 


HANGING MOSS. 


the delightful childishness of the author, who must 
first withdraw into solitude before he could pre- 
sent himself to even his best friends and sincere 
admirers. But in an oddity — when speaking to 
the women, she said, in a genius — we must over- 
look all little peculiarities. 

The greater number of the guests arrived al- 
most simultaneously, after the end of the perform- 
ance. About half an hour later came some of the 
actors and actresses who had taken the most im- 
portant parts, with whom Welsheim, through Hall’s 
instrumentality, was on the friendliest terms. They 
were showered with compliments. Vallini, who was 
treated with marked distinction by the hostess and 
her guests, was of the opinion that they were mak- 
ing altogether too much of the actors. What 
would be left for those who put their whole soul 
into song, who gave their heart’s blood ? 

Those who had not had the good fortune to be 
present at the performance, listened eagerly to the 
account of the play and its wonderful success. 
There was scarcely anything else talked about. 
One opinion alone prevailed — that in Dr. Hugo 
Hall the German stage had found a writer of un- 
usual gifts, and one who undoubtedly had a great 
future before him. Vallini considered that there 
was altogether too much said of the author, and he 


HANGING MOSS. 


153 

had a constant desire to turn the conversation 
from the evening’s success to other successes which 
he had celebrated while on his starring tour 
through Karlsruhe, Stuttgart, Breslau, etc. 

By eleven o’clock all the guests on whom one 
could count with certainty were assembled. The 
company, some sixty or seventy in number, was 
more brilliant and interesting than usual. There 
were only people there who were distinguished by 
birth or talent — among them many of the best- 
known people in the capital. 

The moment had arrived when Leonie could 
bring her irresistible smile to bear upon the pianist 
whose friendly co-operation she had secured be- 
forehand, and say that it would be charming if 
they could have a little music, they would all be so 
delighted to hear the great artist. The pianist did 
not need to be entreated long. Without further 
ado he allowed his charming hostess to conduct 
him to the grand piano. He struck a powerful 
chord; the conversation ceased. He produced a 
great effect by his masterly rendering of Listz’s 
Second Rhapsody.” 

In Vallini’s opinion there was a little too much 
praise showered on the pianist. With an instru- 
ment from which a mere touch elicits harmony, it 
is no great thing to produce an effect — it is only a 


154 


HANGING MOSS. 


matter of more or less mechanical perfection, some- 
thing which can finally be attained by any one. 
How different it is with the artist who has first to 
find in his own organism the means for producing 
an artistic impression, who works with his heart’s 
blood, who puts his whole soul into the notes* 
And in just compensation the effect is quite differ- 
ent from any which a lifeless instrument is capable 
of producing. He happened to remember the im- 
pression he had made a short time before in St. 
Petersburg, with a simple cantilene of Bellini’s. 
The Grand Duchess Olga, royalty itself, had shed 
tears ! And then the storm of enthusiasm which 
had followed ! But he was speaking of well-known 
facts; it had appeared in all the papers. 

“Now, my highly honoured sir, and gifted of 
the gods,” said Leonie, approaching Vallini, “you 
must know what I have come to beg for. Be 
noble! Do not make it too hard for me!” She 
smiled, as she alone could, bent forward slightly, 
and held her head a little to one side as she looked 
up at the handsome tenor, a^ a child who begs for 
sugar-plums. It was quite settled that Vallini 
would sing. He had positively agreed to. He had 
his music in his overcoat pocket, and had rehearsed 
that afternoon with the accompanist. But he 
thought fit to play the innocent. 


HANGING MOSS. 


155 

“ I cannot imagine what it is you would ask, 
fair lady.” 

“ So you will not spare my entreaties. What is 
the first request that I would make of you as a 
hostess ? You would enchant us if you were to sing 
us some little thing.” 

“ But, dear madame, you know I never — ” 

I know all. But I know above all that you 
are gallant, and you will not find it in your heart to 
deny me a request which I make in the name of all 
the ladies, young and old, who are looking loving- 
ly over here. See ! they know quite well what I 
am asking of you.” 

“You are irresistible! Well, then, if it must 
be—” 

“ It must be.” 

“ But you must be lenient, for I am not in good 
voice — and what shall I sing?” 

“ Anything you please.” 

“ Something Italian, I think— the cavatine from 
‘ II Trovatore,’ perhaps.” 

“ Just as you please. If you will sing at all, I 
shall be infinitely grateful.” 

“ Indeed ! ” said Vallini, with a half-cynical smile. 
“ Grateful ? Beware that I do not remind you of it ! ” 

“ I am not afraid. Shall I now see that silence 
is secured ? ” 


156 


HANGING MOSS. 


“ I happen to have the notes with me, I was 
studying this afternoon. I will get them.” 

The accompanist had already been notified, and 
had seated himself at the piano. He played a soft 
prelude while Leonie prepared the guests for the 
event. As Vallini approached the piano, the great 
drawing-room in which all the guests had gathered 
was perfectly still. 

His singing was marvellous. His voice was 
strangely melodious, particularly in the higher 
notes, to which was added the most charming 
freshness and manly strength. During his song 
his hearers grew hot and cold by turns. The 
moment Vallini opened his mouth, an incompre- 
hensible change took place in him. Everything 
obtrusive and foolish, his childish vanity and con- 
ceit — in a word, all that was laughable in the man 
— was banished as though by magic. He now im- 
pressed one only as a true, earnest, sincere artist. 
He touched, impressed one, he carried one away. 
He found such melodious, sobbing notes to express 
his sorrow, the cry of his despair was so intense 
that those cooler spectators that a few moments 
before had been biting their lips to keep from 
laughing when he boasted of his triumphs, and ex- 
hibited his trophies in the shape of small orders, 
medals, jewelled studs, watches, rings, etc., now 


HANGING MOSS. 


157 


listened, shaking their hands incredulously, and 
found no answer to the question, if this great 
singer and this little fool could really be one and 
the same. That that great miracle of art should 
reveal itself in so funny a mortal seemed to them 
the greatest of miracles. 

The audience was spellbound, and as the last 
note died away the general delight expressed itself 
in the most violent fashion. Vallini was sur- 
rounded and lauded to the skies, especially by the 
women, upon whom the singer’s personality made 
an unusual impression. Even among the cleverest 
there were few who, like Leonie, had discovered his 
absurdity and foolishness. There was in his face, 
his figure, his bearing, something inscrutable which 
men were not aware of, but which the women 
plainly detected and which charmed them. 

Leonie, who gave him the heartiest and warmest 
thanks for the unequalled musical treat, was the 
least sincere of tnem all. She had slipped unper- 
ceived into the dining-room immediately after the 
first notes, to assure herself that everything was in 
readiness. She had given a few orders, and ap- 
peared at the entrance of the great drawing-room 
just in time to convince herself of Vallini’s effect 
upon her guests. It gave her real regret to have 
heard as good as nothing of the song, for she 


1^8 HANGING MOSS. 

was very susceptible to music, singing in par- 
ticular. 

The whole company was in the highest spirits. 
It was now almost half past eleven, and Leonie 
was about to bid her guests to supper, when Hugo 
appeared. She had no reason for expecting him so 
soon, but something told her that he was coming, 
and the instant that Hugo crossed the threshold 
she had stepped towards the door. She showed 
her joy so openly, and congratulated him with such 
heartiness, that all eyes turned towards the two. 
Every one crowded around the successful author, 
congratulating him on the great and well-deserved 
success of his play. Hugo was happy ! How he 
had longed for this ! He had already begun to 
doubt. Now he felt that his success was real. 
Now he needed to put no questions to elicit the 
looked-for answer. Each one told him, unasked, 
how original the subject was, how interesting the 
action, how keen the portrayal of character, how 
spirited the dialogue. “ Hercules and Omphale ” 
was at last something new ; it meant a step for- 
ward for the dramatic art in Germany. He heard 
it a dozen times — he could not hear it often enough. 

Vallini was inwardly raging at these enthusias- 
tic demonstrations. He said to himself that every 
assemblage, this one as well, had only a certain 


HANGING MOSS. 


159 


amount of enthusiasm at its disposal, and what- 
ever was used of this store in another’s favour 
was stolen from him. Moreover, it was his artistic 
rendering that had put the guests in their joyous 
humour. He had sown what Dr. Hall now reaped ! 
It was a crying injustice. He was made for some- 
thing better than to prepare an ovation for dra- 
matic tyros ! But it served him quite right ! Why 
had he allowed himself to be persuaded to give 
something of his best — his heart’s blood, his soul — 
to these people ? Why had he accepted the invi- 
tation at all ? 

Why ? Vallini smiled as he asked this question 
in his silent monologue, and answered it with un- 
blushing candour. He intended to be paid a high 
price — nothing less than Leonie’s highest favour. 
This brilliant woman with the magnificent dark 
hair and the restless glances of the keen blue eyes 
pleased him. He knew, as all the world did, that 
she was on the most intimate terms with Dr. Hall, 
and he had no faith in women who in their married 
life diverged a first step but never a second from 
the straight and narrow path. He had come to this 
house with the avowed intention of turning the 
fair Leonie’s head. He did not for one moment 
doubt his final success. His colleague, Orpheus, had 
tamed wilder creatures through the power of music. 

II 


i6o 


HANGING MOSS. 


He was still smiling when Leonie approached 
him, closely followed by Hugo. “ I wish to make 
you two gentlemen acquainted : our dear friend, 
Dr. Hall — our great singer. Signor Vallini.” Vallini 
smiled more graciously, and more sure of victory 
than ever, as he bowed to Hall. The thought 
flashed through his brain, I will prepare some 
unpleasantness for this gentleman later.” And, as 
though Hugo had divined these unspoken words, 
he felt something like a challenge in Vallini’s per- 
fectly correct bow, and answered with as measured 
reserve as politeness allowed. Without any per- 
ceptible cause, he saw in this Vallini something 
hostile and disturbing. And, strange ! Leonie also 
plainly felt that these two men, who behaved 
towards each other with perfect good breeding, 
and betrayed their inward feelings by no outward 
sign, were as powerfully divided as the poles. She 
felt that a heated discussion was threatening, and 
that it was her duty to smother the invisible flame. 

“You have missed a great deal,” she said, turn- 
ing to Hugo. “ Signor Vallini has enraptured us 
all by his magical voice and masterly execution. A 
more glorious celebration of your success could 
hardly be imagined.” 

“ Pray don’t mention it,” answered Vallini. “ If 
I have given you any pleasure I am sufficiently re- 


HANGING MOSS. l5j 

warded." He emphasized the “ you " strongly, and 
accompanied it with a tender look. “ If you will 
be very indulgent, however, will you give me the 
the honour of taking you in to supper ? " 

Leonie glanced at Hugo in embarrassment. 

“You have, unfortunately, come too late," 
Hugo now said. “ Mrs. Welsheim has been kind 
enough to confer that honour upon me." 

The two men again made a scarcely perceptible 
bow to each other. Hugo carried off Leonie, while 
Vallini turned to a very pretty woman who stood 
near him, and who had been burning to express 
her admiration to the great singer. 

“ You should have said some friendly word to 
Vallini," whispered Leonie to her lover. 

“ The man is exceedingly disagreeable to me." 

“ Why ? " 

“ I don’t know, but he is simply repugnant to 
me." 

“ And I have only asked him to add to your 
evening — for it is your evening, my dearest." 

“I know it, and I thank you." 

He pressed her arm tenderly as he led her 
through the small drawing-room to the dining- 
room, the wide sliding doors of which had just 
been opened. 

The decorations drew forth exclamations of 


HANGING MOSS. 


162 

hearty admiration. The buffet, in the centre of 
which on a flower-covered pedestal rose the bronze 
group of the ravishing Omphale and Hercules 
kneeling at her feel, was really magnificent in its 
entire arrangement. It was an artistic combina- 
tion of “ motives ” from the flower and animal king- 
doms which would have delighted the eye of a 
painter of still life. Each one of the small tables, 
which were so placed that conversation with the 
neighbouring ones could be carried on without any 
difficulty, had its own peculiar floral adornment ; 
on one, the centre-piece was a beautiful mass of 
La France roses; on another, Mar^chal Neils; a 
third was arranged with white carnations; a fourth, 
with lilacs ; another, with lilies of the valley ; an- 
other, with gardenias. The large bouquets for the 
women, and the boutonnieres for the men, were a 
repetition of the centre-pieces. 

Hugo was really touched as he looked at all 
this beauty, and said to himself that it was Leonie’s 
love for him that had prepared it all. He pressed 
her arm, which lay in his, close to his heart, and 
Leonie whispered softly to him what he had just 
been thinking: “Yes, my dearest, I have done all 
this for you. I am very happy ! ” 

“ I, too,*' answered Hugo, with a deep sigh. 

“ And now do not spoil my perfect happiness 


HANGING MOSS. 


163 

by thanking me too extravagantly for this trifle,” 
she whispered further, as they stood before the 
bronze. “ I have ordered it for you. Put it in 
your rooms; and, when you look at it, think of 
the night of your first triumph and of me.” 

Hugo was incapable of a word. He shook his 
head and looked at Leonie with a passionate 
glance of tender gratitude. 

“ Does the bronze please you ? ” asked Wels- 
heim, who had approached them and was enjoying 
Hugo’s surprise. He lowered his voice at the 
same time. It isn’t necessary for any one to 
know that I have permitted myself the little joke. 
I beg you, dear friend, no word of thanks ! But it 
is really beautiful ! Ah, these Frenchmen ! If we 
were only as far advanced ! But, no ! You shall 
not thank me ! Put the thing in your room in re- 
membrance of your first success — and of us! ” 

The guests in the mean time had taken their 
places, and the gayest spirits prevailed during the 
supper. Towards one o’clock, when the ices were 
served, Welsheim rose and tapped on his glass. 
Welsheim was a good after-dinner speaker. He 
spoke briefly, clearly, ably, and continually found 
clever turns which aroused great merriment. To- 
night he was especially happy in his remarks. 
Laughter followed each sentence, and all joined 


HANGING MOSS. 


164 

uproariously in the toast to the successful young 
author, Welsheim’s good friend Dr. Hugo Hall. 

While the glasses clinked merrily together, the 
toast song, “ Hoch soil er leben,” was raised at one 
of the corner tables where some of the young peo- 
ple were assembled. The youthful leaders of the 
strain had begun too high, and in the two closing 
measures their voices failed them. They decided 
immediately on a bold transition to a lower key. 

But now Vallini took up the refrain, and the 
last two notes, B and C, rang out with such 
strength and fulness and sweetness that all looked 
at one another in complete, astonishment. And 
for the second and third time resounded those 
wonderful notes, more full and rounded, more 
powerful and melodious, than had ever before is- 
sued from a human throat. It was an exulting 
cry of victory, a stirring shout of triumph, inde- 
scribably impressive, which made the guests, who 
had risen, involuntarily throw back their heads 
open their lips, and gaze with wondering eyes at 
the fearless herald of song. 

For the third and last time resounded Vallini’s 
Dreimal hoch! ” The others had ceased singing. 
He stood there, waving his champagne-glass in his 
uplifted hand, and while he held the last, highest 
tone in bewildering sweetness, and let the fof'tis- 


HANGING MOSS. 


165 


simo gradually die away into the softest pianis- 
simo^ he looked with a fiery, passionate, ominous 
gaze straight at Leonie, who was breathing rapidly 
through her parted lips and staring at him as 
though hypnotized. 

Again the glasses clinked merrily. As soon as 
they were replaced on the table, a general ex- 
clamation arose, accompanied by loud and pro- 
longed clapping. 

“ Will you not drink with me ? ” asked Hugo 
softly, in a tone of gentle reproach. 

Pardon me ! " answered Leonie, and, as if 
awakening from a trance, she hastily seized her 
glass and touched it so impetuously to her lover’s 
that it broke into fragments, and the wine, foaming 
up again, spilt over the table-cloth. 

Hugo looked at her in surprise. 

“That brings good fortune,” she said with a 
forced smile, but failing in her attempt to hide her 
preocupation from Hugo’s dark eyes. 

“Gliick und Glass, wie schnell bricht das! ” re- 
plied Hugo, with an uneasy foreboding. 

Leonie found no word in answer. She was 
still spellbound. The wondrous tones still lin- 
gered in her ears. They had affected her like an 
electric shock. They had mastered and subjugated 
her. She felt that the man opposite had subjected 


HANGING MOSS. 


l66 

her to a foreign will, that he imperiously com- 
manded her to forget all his foolish absurdities 
and to admire him. And she bowed obediently to 
the stronger power of the irresistible magician. 
She tolerated his insolent glances without repelling 
him ; she was constantly forced to look at him, and 
answer his smile. She had lost the mastery over 
herself — she did it without inclination, without 
hypocrisy, simply because she had to. She had 
forgotten that Hugo was beside her, and neither 
did she notice how thoughtful and grave he had 
become, nor how they two, who always had some- 
thing to say to each other, had been completely 
silent for some time, while around them was noth- 
ing but joking, chattering, and laughing. 

Suddenly she heard close to her ear, “ I think 
it time to leave the table.” It was Welsheim who 
had stepped behind her and bent over her. 

She started back. “What did you say?” she 
asked in astonishment. 

“ We had better leave the table ; the men are 
longing for their cigars.” 

“Ah, yes — very well.” 

She rose, the others followed her example, and 
she mechanically took Hugo’s arm. 

While they slowly betook themselves to the 
drawing-rooms, Hugo said in real alarm: “What 


HANGING MOSS. 1 67 

is the matter with you ? You seem changed all at 
once.” 

** You are always finding fault with me [ There 
is nothing the matter ! ” she answered, almost an- 
grily. 

If I were disposed to be jealous,” continued 
Hugo, deeply pained by Leonie’s unkindness, “I 
should almost be inclined to think that the famous 
* piper ’ had charmed you too with his high C. 
Since the ‘ hoch ’ which the man sang by himself, 
you have not spoken a single word to me. You 
must admit that it would be a cruel irony, if this 
very evening and these very festivities, which are 
really given in my honour, should lead to a fatal 
change in our relations. You exchanged looks with 
that man, that — ” 

“ You are unbearable ! ” retorted Leonie with 
unconcealed annoyance. It angered her to find 
that Hugo had read her thoughts. I surely can- 
not have ears and eyes for no one but you, in my 
own drawing-rooms ! ” 

<‘I have never required that. But I frankly 
confess to you that this Vallini — ” 

“What have you against Vallini ? Here is an- 
other one you can't endure. Shall I sacrifice him 
also to your humours as I have so many others? 
Well, I tell you plainly that I will not do it, and 


HANGING MOSS. 


l68 

that I look upon Signor Vallini as a very valuable 
acquisition. He is an agreeable man and a great 
singer. He pleases me and the others. Besides, 
I also have a word to say here, and I do not need 
to give in silently to all these despotic whims.” 

During this conversation, which had been car- 
ried on in low but distinct voices, they had reached 
the large drawing-room. Leonie dropped Hugo's 
arm, without feeling any desire for a reconcili- 
ation, and began to exchange greetings and the 
customary wishes for a “ gesegnete Mahlzeit ” with 
her guests. She smiled absently, and looked to- 
wards the right, where Vallini was just leaving the 
young woman he had taken to supper. He seemed 
noble to her now. She was under the spell that 
had carried away so many foolish women, over 
whom she had been making merry scarcely an hour 
before. With a secret feeling of pleasure she saw 
that he was approaching her, and when he kissed 
her hand — quite differently from all the others — - 
and his lips touched her wrist, a thrill passed over 
her and she trembled. 

“When may I thank you for this delightful 
evening?” asked Vallini. 

“ When you wish — only do not wait too long.” 

“ To-morrow, if you will permit — But I must 
confess that 1 am somewhat shy of people. When 


HANGING MOSS. 1 69 

would there be the greatest probability of finding 
you with only a few ? I mean — ” 

“ I quite understand. Well, if you will come at 
noon, you will run a great risk of being bored by 
me alone.” 

“ Then until to-morrow noon ! ” 

He kissed her hand once more, and he felt 
how she trembled. With a satisfied smile he turned 
to the other women. 

Hugo had seen all. Without hearing a word 
he had understood what had passed as completely 
as though Leonie had made the appointment with 
him. He drew out his handkerchief and wiped 
the drops from his forehead. He looked vacantly 
at Leonie, whom Welsheim had just approached. 

Was this Welsheim stricken with blindness? 
Did he not see what was still so apparent, that 
Leonie was on the point of compromising herself 
with that fool of a Vallini, with that ridiculous 
lady-killer, whom capricious Nature had endowed 
with somewhat stronger vocal chords than other 
mortals — that was really his only advantage ; 
how in mad foolhardiness she was taking under 
his very eyes the first step on the road which leads 
to shame, to the breaking of the marriage vows ? 
This Welsheim saw none of all this — he who was 
usually so quick-witted a man ? 


HANGING MOSS. 


170 

A feeling of contempt curled Hugo’s lip. 
Leonie and Felix suddenly appeared to him in 
an entirely different light since he had seen her 
with Vallini. He avoided drawing an a posteriori 
conclusion of himself and his relations to the 
two. 

He approached Leonie. I will slip away un- 
noticed,” he said to her softly. “When may I see 
you to-morrow ? ” 

“ Not too early. I wish to sleep late. They 
will stay a good deal longer. Come to dinner, at 
six, as usual.” 

“ I wish to see you alone.” 

“ No sermons, I beg of you ! I will not endure 
it any longer. 1 shall expect you at six.” 

“ You need not expect me.” 

“ As you please ! ” 

“ I once more heartily thank you for all your 
kindness.” 

“ Don’t mention it ! ” 

“ Leonie,” whispered Hugo eagerly, and his 
voice trembled. “ Is it possible that I am to leave 
you like this — and to-night ? ” 

“ What more can I say ? You are unjust. You 
see how I do everything to give you pleasure, and 
you torment me with what I cannot alter. I am 
the hostess, I have to consider my guests and my 


HANGING MOSS. 


171 

husband. If you will not understand, I cannot 
help it. People are looking at us. We cannot 
settle the matter to-night. And, above all, have 
the goodness not to preach me any more sermons. 
I really will not endure it any longer. I should 
have nerves like cords. Be reasonable ! Come to 
dinner to-morrow.” 

“ No ! ” answered Hugo coldly. 

I shall not ask you a third time,” Leonie re- 
plied in the same tone, and turned to a neighbour- 
ing group. 

As John handed Hall his umbrella and ulster 
in the anteroom, and slipped the tip into his waist- 
coat pocket with a smothered thanks, he added 
more distinctly, “ About half an hour ago a lady 
asked for you, doctor.” 

“ A lady ? ” Hugo asked absently. The matter 
had little interest for him in his present mood. 

“ Seemed to me like some one crazed about the 
theatre,” smirked John. 

“ Indeed ? — It is very possible ! ” 

Without giving any further thought to the mat- 
ter, he stepped out into the cold, dark, rainy au- 
tumn night. The driver of the first cab was 
about to clamber down from his box. Hugo had 
raised his umbrella and started on foot towards 
the Lindens. He was very downcast. In his de- 


172 


HANGING MOSS. 


jected frame of mind he could not grasp what had 
happened. He thought of nothing in particular. 
With body bent forward to protect him from the 
rain, he hurried on, with ever-quickening step, 
homewards. 


CHAPTER IX. 


As Martha cautiously opened the door of the 
small bedroom, she heard the regular breathing 
of her mother, who was already fast asleep. 

‘‘ Mamma,” she called in a low voice. 

No answer. Martha knew well the blessed sleep 
her mother always enjoyed. She was certain that 
she would not wake before the next morning. She 
carefully closed the door, went back on tiptoe to 
the sitting-room, and wrote on a sheet of paper in 
large letters : “ Don’t be uneasy, dear mamma. I 
have to go out ; I shall be home again by one 
o’clock at the latest. I did not want to wake you ; 
I will tell you everything. You will not distrust 
me. — Martha.” She put the sheet in a prominent 
place under the lamp, so that in the improbable 
event of Mrs. Breuer’s awakening and looking 
around for Martha, it would meet her eye at once. 
Then she donned her mackintosh, put on her hat, 
took her umbrella, key, and candle, and left the 
house as quietly as possible. 

The heavy, continuous rain had emptied the 


174 


HANGING MOSS. 


Unter den Linden, which was usually frequented 
even at this hour. Martha hurried along with 
rapid steps, hiding herself unnecessarily under her 
umbrella. Not far from the Brandenburg Gate 
she was accosted by a man going in the opposite 
direction. She did not understand him, and went 
on. In the dark, silent Thiergarten, in which she 
heard nothing but the monotonous roar of the 
rain, she grew fearful. She hurried so that she 
could hardly get her breath. Her heart beat 
violently. When she turned into the Victoria 
Strasse, she felt calmer. She already saw at a dis- 
tance the brilliant illumination of the Welsheims’ 
house on the opposite side of the street, otherwise 
dark and gloomy. She stood standing awhile be- 
fore the house, in front of which was drawn up a 
long line of carriages and cabs. She saw the sub- 
dued light of the flower-entwined lamp in the bow 
window, saw the glittering chandeliers in the ad- 
joining rooms, saw now to her surprise that the win- 
dows stood open, and wondered that the festively 
illuminated rooms seemed to be so empty of peo- 
ple. Only once she saw a shadow flit hurriedly by. 
It seemed to be a servant. The simple explanation 
that the guests might be assembled in the dining- 
room overlooking the garden did not occur to her. 

She crossed over, squeezed through the narrow 


HANGING MOSS. 


1/5 


space between the hind wheels of a carriage and 
the heads of the horses of the carriage behind, and 
resolutely entered the open door. The hall was 
bright, warm, and comfortable. 

When she had taken a few steps and was about 
to ascend the stairs, she heard loud laughter and 
clapping, the clinking of glasses ; she heard cheers, 
and then the beginning of the song, “ Hoch soil er 
leben ! ” The chorus was uncertain, and then a 
wonderful tenor voice joined in, and the “ Dreimal 
hoch ! ” rang out with wondrous power. Martha 
stopped involuntarily on the lowest step and list- 
ened. Twice again she heard the ravishing voice. 
Then the glasses clinked again, and long, loud ap- 
plause followed, amidst universal cheering. 

Martha slowly mounted the stairs. The ser- 
vant in the anteroom stood at the closed doors of 
the dining-room, from which came a loud murmur 
of conversation. He had been listening to the 
song; now he heard her and turned around. 

'‘Excuse me,” said Martha softly. “Is Dr. 
Hall here?” 

“ Yes, indeed ! ” 

“ Thank you.” 

As she turned away, she heard a glass shiver 
into fragments. She pressed her hand to her heart, 

as though something had broken there too. 

12 


HANGING MOSS. 


176 

John looked at her in astonishment, but he was 
too well trained a servant to wonder long. 

Martha was so composed that she was surprised 
at herself. She only felt a deadly exhaustion. In 
spite of the storm, she went a few houses far- 
ther. Then she stepped under a gaslight, took out 
her pocket-book and counted the contents. She 
was relieved to find that she had something like a 
dollar with her. 

She turned and took a cab and was driven to 
the Briider Strasse, after she had paid the fare de- 
manded. As she was jolted roughly here and there 
on the hard cushions of the rattling cab, she 
thought over what had happened and what must 
now happen, with stony calmness. Only her reason 
was at work — her feelings were completely dulled. 

Unconscious of how she had come, she entered 
her home once more. Her written explanation to 
her mother lay undisturbed under the lamp. She 
opened the wet umbrella and placed it on the floor. 
She divested herself of the mackintosh and the 
soaking shoes. She took an unusually long time. 
After each motion she was obliged to rest a mo- 
ment, to recover her exhausted strength. She tore 
the note to pieces, which she had destined for her 
mother, and placed a fresh sheet on the table be- 
fore her and gazed at the white page. 


HANGING MOSS. 


1 77 


She took up the pen several times, but she was 
so weak that she could not write. Her hands sank 
feebly to her side, and, leaning back in her chair, 
she let her head with its heavy burden of hair fall 
backwards. At each breath came a hoarse rattle 
from her open lips, aggravated every now and then 
by a hard, dry cough. From time to time she 
pressed her hand tightly to her breast . 

Finally, she mastered herself. She began de- 
liberately to write the following in a large, firm 
hand whose bold characters would hardly have 
been attributed to so fragile a girl. 

“ The night of September 30 to October i, 1878. 

“ Dear Hugo : I give you back your word and 
your freedom. I can never be yours. Later, 
when I am calmer, I will give you the reasons for 
my resolve, if you care to hear them. For the 
present it is best that we should neither meet nor 
speak. Martha.” 

She wrote the address, and without sealing it 
she took the letter with her to the bedroom. She 
undressed with great difficulty. As she laydown 
she heard Hugo come in, and wondered that he 
had left so early. She stared into the darkness 
with wide opened eyes. She heard her mother’s 


178 


HANGING MOSS. 


regular breathing, the roar of the storm, and heard 
the hoarse, rattling sound which accompanied her 
own breathing. 

When she realised that she should not see Hugo 
for a long, long time, perhaps never again, her 
eyes grew moist, and she felt the hot tears roll down 
her cheeks. But the thought that the bond be- 
tween her and Hugo was broken forever pained 
her far less than she had thought it would. It 
even gave her a certain feeling of relief to know 
that the unworthy lie was at an end. She had suf- 
fered too much during the last months to be par- 
ticularly susceptible to pain now. She was very 
grave, sad, and sorrowful, but she was calm and 
resigned. 

At last she fell into a heavy, unrefreshing sleep, 
from which she awoke to full consciousness when 
her mother rose at her usual hour, half past six. 

Martha raised herself a little. 

Good morning, mamma.” 

“ What ! Awake already ? Good morning ! ” 

‘‘ I have scarcely slept at all. I feel very weak 
and hardly like getting up. Perhaps you will send 
the porter’s little girl for Dr. Lohausen.” 

The widow had bent over the bed and lovingly 
kissed Martha’s forehead. She took the hot, dry 
hand between her own. 


HANGING MOSS. 


179 


“ You are feverish again, my poor child," she 
said with tender solicitude. “ Shall I give you 
some of the drops ? " 

“ I would rather wait until the doctor comes. 
Don’t worry. It is nothing serious. By and by, 
dear mamma, when you have dressed and break- 
fasted, I would like to tell you something — By and 
by," she repeated with feeble smile in answer to her 
mother’s questioning glance. 

Half an hour later the widow sat by her sick 
daughter’s bed and listened with a grave, almost 
gloomy face to her words. 

“ Please let me speak undisturbed, dear mam- 
ma; I am too weak to take up the thread again 
after an interruption. I am certain that Hugo does 
not love me — does not love me enough for me to 
become his wife. He has nothing to reproach me 
with, and he wishes to spare me. So he has kept the 
truth from me. He was mistaken in his feelings 
when we became engaged ; that is quite certain, 
mamma. 

He loves some one else, and I also know 
whom. I have thought it all over. Things can- 
not remain as they are. We are not suited to each 
other. We must break the engagement. Read 
this letter "—she took it from under her pillow— 
‘and then give it to Hugo." 


i8o 


HANGING MOSS. 


The widow had sat there with a stony face and 
listened to her daughter’s feeble but resolute 
words. With the same calmness she read the let- 
ter and replaced it in its envelope without betray- 
ing in the slightest what was going on within 
her. 

You have acted wisely,” she said after a pause. 
“ I have seen for some time that it was coming. 
Your confidence alone made me waver in my opin- 
ion. No one who loves his affianced wife would 
act as he has. And now, my dear child — I do 
not say to you, put the matter out of your head 
— I do not demand impossibilities — I only ask 
you to be as reasonable, as calm as it is possi- 
ble for you to be. Do not excite yourself, my poor 
Martha. For my sake, don’t make yourself ill. 
Spare me that sorrow, my dear child, I beg you. 
— Ah, if we could only get away from here ! ” 

“ That is out of the question ! Don’t be wor- 
ried. I shall be sensible.” 

I would make any sacrifice, any sacrifice — if 
I could only carry you olf somewhere — it doesn’t 
matter where. Only out of this horrible house, 
out of this horrible city where you have nothing 
but sad associations. This is not a new idea. For 
weeks and months I have thought of nothing else. 
How can you regain your strength here, you poor 


HANGING MOSS. 


l8l 


child ? In this dim light, in this bad air, in this con- 
tinual agitation ! Oh, it is hard, hard, hard ! ” 

She gazed with infinite sorrow and tenderness 
at her sick child who lay before her with closed 
eyes. 

“ Perhaps the good God will help us,” she 
sighed. “We have done nothing wrong.” Mar- 
tha nodded and gave a faint smile, but her eyes 
remained closed. 


CHAPTER X. 


Wet to the skin and heated by his rapid walk, 
Hugo had reached home. He lit his lamp and 
rapidly stripped off his wet clothes. He did not 
think of going to sleep ; even the thought of bed 
was repugnant to him. He flung on his dressing- 
gown and walked slowly up and down in his study. 

He tried to collect himself, but he succeeded 
ill. Too much had come crushing down upon him 
within these last hours ! He felt like a man ship- 
wrecked, flung hither and thither in the furious, 
surging sea of his emotions. Was it really only a 
few hours — all these violent emotions within the 
short period of a few hours ? That fever before 
and during the production of his play, that heav- 
enly rapture in the moment of certain victory, 
that precious reward for all his labour, the com- 
pensation for all the hours of doubt in himself, 
the deadly uncertainty of his future, that satisfied 
feeling of joy at having found the right road, and 
now with confidence and trust dare to strive for 


HANGING MOSS. 


83 


the highest goal — and then the reaction, the con- 
straint of his dishonest and deceitful meeting with 
poor Martha, the unconquerable desire to share 
the evening’s joy with Leonie, and there in the 
glittering rooms, the pleasure of gratified and flat- 
tered vanity, the delight of finding himself hon- 
oured by clever men and brilliant women, and the 
happiness of knowing himself loved by the woman 
he loved. And then — and then the incomprehen- 
sible, the inconceivable, the impossible ! The vio- 
lent tearing asunder of the bond that seemed at 
that moment to be -stronger than ever, Leonie’s 
alienation from him who had never spoken an un- 
kind word to her, who worshipped her more grate- 
fully, loved her more passionately now than he 
had ever loved her before ! 

He could neither grasp the particulars nor the 
whole. He was almost without consciousness. He 
only felt the strong impulse to wrestle with, to 
ward off the hostile powers which were closing 
around him. But ever anew, something mocking, 
scornful, superior, seized him and thrust him back 
into the vortex. And this rough, stronger power 
embodied itself in the figure of a smiling, hand- 
some man who seemed laughable and terrible at 
the same moment. He saw him everywhere, this 
Vallini ; try as he would to picture Leonie to him- 


HANGING MOSS. 


184 

self, and to unravel the dark enigma of her cold 
repulse, it was always Vallini’s fatal, smiling face 
that obtruded itself, and when in the recollection 
of Leonie’s attitude he asked himself in desper- 
ation, ‘‘ How can it be possible ? ’’ there seemed 
to echo in his ears, in answer, the wonderful mel- 
ody of a man’s voice, “ Dreimal hoch ! ” 

What could it all mean ? He saw no escape 
from this wretched complication. He only knew 
that this day, which had been the happiest in his 
life, had likewise brought him the greatest sorrow. 
Leonie was lost to him, irrevocably lost ! 

With a deep sigh he sank into the chair before 
his desk. How was he to live or breathe or work 
without Leonie ? Not until now did he realise, in 
the keen bitterness of his loss, what she had been 
to him. She was his one interest in life ; all his 
thoughts and feelings had centred about her. In 
her jealousy, which he had found so charming as 
being an evidence of her love, she had allowed 
him no intimates, no friends, no harmless enjoy- 
ments ; she had wished to be everything to him, 
and she had compensated him for everything. She 
was his friends, his family, his stimulus, his com- 
fort, his love, all in one. She had alienated him 
from the poor girl who, unknown to him, was toss- 
ing feverishly in the next room that very hour, 


HANGING MOSS. 


185 


and mourning over her lost happiness. Leonie 
had been everything, everything to him. She had 
enthralled his mind and led him where she would 
by the power of her love. She had twined herself 
about him ; he had been happy over it, and, in his 
pride at having won the brilliant woman, had not 
been conscious that she had taken the light and 
air away from him. 

Involuntarily he looked up at the hanging 
moss suspended from his bookcase. At her only 
visit to him, Leonie had asked him to tell her 
about this beautiful but deadly decoration of the 
trees, which brought down the strongest oaks by 
depriving them of air and light. 

“ Tillandsia usneoides” he said with a strange 
smile. 

It was nearly six ; the cold, grey light of the 
dull autumn morning was already peeping in 
through the shutters, when Hugo at last decided 
to go to bed. But his sleep was broken and un- 
easy, and two hours later he rose and dressed him- 
self.- He wanted to find the porter and send him 
for the morning papers. As he opened the door 
to the stairs there stood the porter’s little girl. 
She brought a message for Mrs. Breuer, that Dr. 
Lohausen would come as soon as possible. Hall 
offered to deliver the message, gave the child some 


HANGING MOSS. 


1 86 

money, and told her to get all the papers she 
could. Then he returned to his room and rang. 
The widow appeared at the usual time, bringing 
him his coffee. 

Her stern, rigid face struck Hugo immediately. 

‘‘Is it very serious?” he asked sympatheti- 
cally. “ Dr. Lohausen sends word that he will be 
here as soon as possible. Has Martha had a re- 
lapse ? ” 

“ She is not very well, but I hope it is nothing 
serious. She has made a grave resolution. This 
letter will tell you all.” 

Hugo held out his hand, in surprise, for Mar- 
tha’s letter. He opened it and scanned the few 
lines; then he read it over slowly once more, while 
the widow remained standing motionless, with 
tightly compressed lips. He dared not lift his 
eyes to the mother. 

Almost mechanically he said to her, “ But won’t 
you sit down ? ” 

“ No, thank you.” 

“ I am completely overcome,” he finally man- 
aged to say. “ I have feared this. I know that I 
have done Martha a great wrong. I don’t know, 
now, how I shall atone for it ; I am the only one 
at fault ! I have long been conscious of my guilt. 
I would have confessed it long ago if I could have 


HANGING MOSS. 


187 

brought myself to hurt the poor, weak child. I 
had thought and hoped. I cannot say it now. I 
am completely worn out by the excitement which 
has kept me awake all night. Show me a last 
kindness by listening to me another time, I beg of 
you ! Tell me what I shall do, what I can do to 
lighten my conscience, to lighten poor Martha’s 
sufferings. I will make any sacrifice, even the 
greatest sacrifice, for I feel that my conduct is un- 
pardonable. I will excuse nothing, palliate noth- 
ing. My God ! — that too ! The poor, noble child ! 
Tell me, I implore you, what can be done ? ” 

Mrs. Breuer had made no attempt to soothe 
or to interrupt Hall, whose excitement constantly 
increased. She maintained the same cold, rigid 
manner. After a long pause, as she saw that he 
was awaiting an answer, she said mechanically : 
“ Unfortunately, there is little to be done at pres- 
ent. All you can do is to obey Martha’s wish — 
neither speak to her nor write to her. There is no 
necessity for further explanations. As her mother, 
I should now oppose any communication between 
you and my daughter ; and if she had not already 
done what was right of her own accord, I should 
have forbidden any further intercourse between 
you.” 

‘‘I will make arrangements to-day to relieve 


i88 


HANGING MOSS. 


you of the painful necessity of meeting me in your 
own house.” 

I was about to request you to do so.” 

Hugo paced the room in the greatest agitation. 

“ I dare not ask for forgiveness. You cannot 
forgive me. But I am very wretched.” 

The widow answered nothing. 

“ That, then, was the last night I am to spend 
in your house,” said Hugo with genuine emotion. 
‘‘A sorrowfnl night ! And I must leave your 
house like this, driven away like a criminal, like 
an ingrate, as I am ! And I cannot even thank 
you — for all your kindness — in the hard days ! 
And now that the change which we longed for so 
ardently, and awaited so confidently, has come, 
now I run away like a rascal and leave you with 
anger and resentment towards me in your hearts.” 

He was silent awhile, in the hope that Mrs. 
Breuer would say one comforting or forgiving 
word, but he was mistaken. As though she had 
not heard his conscience-stricken cry of remorse, 
she said, with business-like calmness, after a long 
pause : 

“ Then I may dispose of my two front rooms 
from to-day on ? ” 

“ Yes, I will try to send away my things in the 
course of the morning, as soon as it is possible.” 


HANGING MOSS. 


189 

The widow slightly inclined her head in assent. 

“ Then we have nothing further to say to each 
other,” she said, in the same cold tone, preparing 
to leave the room. 

Hugo stepped towards her ; he gave her an 
earnest, entreating look, and tried to take her 
hand. The widow turned and left the room with- 
out another word. He looked after her with a bit- 
ter laugh, and nodded. The angry veins stood 
out on his forehead ; he stamped his foot, tore the 
hanging moss from the bookcase, crushed it be- 
neath his heel, and cried between his teeth : 

“ Wo man sie anfasst, morsch in alien Gliedem ! 

Man weiss, man sieht’s, man kann es greifen, 

Und dennoch tanzt man, wenn die Luder pfeiffen ! ” 

And while he thrust away the grey-green ten- 
drils with his foot, he said : “ It will do for pack- 
ing. This is the end of my happiness ! ” 

The porter’s little daughter brought the pa- 
pers. 

“ Tell your father to get me two reliable men, 
and ask him if he will help me in packing. If so, 
ask him to come up as soon as possible.” 

Very well, Herr Doctor ! ” 

Hugo hurriedly scanned the papers. They were 
all, without exception, very favourable ; and even 
the least friendly confirmed the startling success 


HANGING MOSS. 


190 

What a different effect it would have had upon 
him before ! But he was almost stunned. He 
must set about getting his things together. As 
he took up Martha’s wreath with the embroidered 
ribbons, his eyes grew moist. 

For three hours the porter and the men made 
havoc in Hugo’s two rooms, under his direction. 
The baskets and boxes were filled. The rooms 
looked dreary and empty. Towards noon the la- 
borious work was finished. Hugo went out. He 
took the first lodging he found that seemed rea- 
sonably convenient — somewhat larger, somewhat 
dearer, and somewhat better furnished, and in the 
Tauben Strasse. At one o’clock he left the house 
in the Briider Strasse with a heavy, heavy heart. 

It was indescribably cheerless in the new lodg- 
ings. The boxes and baskets stood unpacked in 
the large living-room. Hugo looked forward with 
real horror to the arranging of his books. He had 
packed all that he needed in his travelling case, 
and even the arrangement of these indispensable 
articles was exceedingly annoying to him. 

He felt entirely broken down, but he could 
not stay in this strange, disorderly room, in which 
everything looked so unfamiliar and unfriendly. 
The weather had become fine again, the sun was 
shining, and, although somewhat cool, it was bright 


HANGING MOSS. 


I91 

and clear. He turned in the direction of the Thier- 
garten. 

He walked along slowly, and any one who saw 
him so pale and haggard, with dark rings under his 
eyes, would have taken him for a convalescent who 
had exerted himself to leave the sick-room in or- 
der to enjoy the sunshine and to find strength in 
the fresh air. Luckily, he met no acquaintances. 

The picture of the sick, forsaken Martha, which 
had unmercifully tormented him during the last 
few hours, vanished as he stepped under the trees 
of the Thiergarten, It was the way he had always 
taken to go to her — to Leonie. And again he was 
overwhelmed by the violent emotions against 
which he had battled to exhaustion during the 
preceding night of horror. Had she really for- 
saken him ? Was he never again to draw her 
trembling to his heart, never to kiss the fresh 
mouth again ? Was a tender, longing glance from 
those blue-gray eyes never to rest upon him again ; 
was he never more to hear an ardent, loving word 
from her lips ? 

But, after all, she had deceived her husband for 
him — why should she not deceive him also for 
another ? Distrust, the inevitable result of that 
infidelity which had made him happy, had taken 
full possession of him. He was jealous to mad- 
13 


192 


HANGING MOSS. 


ness of Vallini, with whom Leonie, as well as other 
women, might have fallen in love--had fallen in love. 

How had he bewitched her ? She was keen and 
critical ; he was a vain, ridiculous fool. She must 
have seen through him. But must it be probable 
to be true ? Was not the improbable generally the 
rule in love affairs ? Who dared flatter himself 
that he knew the secrets of a woman's heart ? 
Who could understand the extravagant desires, 
the crazy fancies of women ? Love, material and 
spiritual, perhaps was really nothing, after all, 
but something mechanical. Perhaps Lucrece was 
right, perhaps all the noble and exalted feelings 
which we mistakenly locate in the heart are bodily 
emanations which come in contact with others 
whose constituent parts either mingle or do not, 
are drawn together or repel, call forth favorable 
feelings or repulsion, sympathy or antipathy, love 
or hatred. Perhaps this absurd man possessed a 
mysterious power which paralyzed and overpow- 
ered Leonie’s soul and senses, which made her 
weak and took away her will. Yet he himself had 
experienced her superior force. She had fettered 
him without his making the slightest attempt to 
free himself. She had silenced the voice of duty 
within him, had hardened his heart against the 
pitiable victim of his rashness. Perhaps in the 


HANGING MOSS. 


193 


terrible irony of Fate she too had now found her 
master in this insignificant creature, who was noth- 
ing more than a so-called handsome man with a 
magnificent voice. 

He thought of that day, so fateful for him, 
when he had gone to her with the firm resolve to 
break off his friendly relations with her, to be no 
longer untrue, even in thought, to his affianced 
wife, and had left her, her lover. And with a won- 
derful power of retrospection, all the incidents of 
that hour rose before his excited imagination. 
Now, however, he was no longer one of the act- 
ors ; he was only the invisible spectator who was 
forced against his will to witness a repugnant 
scene in which Vallini took his former part. 

Hugo, without knowing it, had reached the 
corner of the Thiergarten and Bellerne Strasse, 
when he was greeted in an offensive manner by 
a rather extravagantly dressed man, who wore his 
hat a little on one side. It was Vallini, who passed 
him with a jaunty air and a smile of beaming self- 
satisfaction. 

Hugo started as from a dream. He stood still 
a moment and gazed after the singer, who cheer- 
fully paraded his good looks, fame, and elegance 
before the admiring crowd under the trees of the 
Siegesallee. 


194 


HANGING MOSS. 


What was truth, and what a dream ? Was it a 
visionary presentiment of the truth ? And how 
far did truth enter into what he had seen in imagi- 
nation ? The drops stood out on his forehead. 

He went hesitatingly up the Victoria Strasse, 
and hesitatingly he ascended the steps of the 
house. 

He heard the sound of the slide being pushed 
back, but some time passed before the door was 
opened. 

“ Madame is very sorry — but she is very much 
fatigued by last night’s entertainment. The Herr 
Doctor will kindly excuse her.” 

John brought out the lie which had been en- 
joined upon him with some uncertainty ; as Hugo 
looked at him sharply, the man, who could see that 
Hugo knew the excuse to be false, dropped his 
eyes. 

Hugo returned to the Thiergarten in the same 
slow pace, with heavy, dragging steps. As he sud- 
denly turned around in the street he saw that Leo- 
nie, who had thought herself hidden by the flower 
stands in the bow window, was looking after him, 
but dipped her head like a duck as she perceived 
his movement. Too late ! Hugo had seen her 
plainly, saw her still, behind the flowers : she wore 
a new, coquettish, pale-blue morning gown that he 


HANGING MOSS. 


195 

had never seen before ; the loose black hair framed 
her white face. 

At the corner he took a cab. He felt so ex- 
hausted that he did not trust himself to find the 
short way back on foot. 

He scarcely answered cheerful Mrs. Bennemann, 
his new landlady, who asked him good-naturedly 
if she could be of any assistance to him. He did 
not look around the comfortless room, but flung 
himself fully dressed on the couch, without even 
taking off his overcoat and gloves, and in a few 
moments fell into a heavy, leaden sleep. 


CHAPTER XI. 


Early in the afternoon Hugo’s deserted lodg- 
ings were restored to a presentable condition by 
the widow and the woman who came daily to help 
in the heavier work. To be sure, the large room 
looked somewhat bare and inhospitable, but every- 
thing was in spotless order. The windows were 
cleaned and fresh curtains put up. 

It pleased the widow to think that she had a 
better reception-room than usual at her disposal, 
for she had an unexpected caller. Mr. Felix Wels- 
heim, who never forgot a commission of his wife’s, 
had gone directly from the Stock Exchange to Mrs. 
Breuer’s. 

She conducted him to the front room. She 
thought it unnecessary to tell Mr. Welsheim that 
Hugo had left her house. She had simply an- 
swered in the negative to the question if the doc- 
tor was at home. 

“To tell the truth, I’m not sorry not to meet 
the doctor,” began Welsheim, as he accepted the 


HANGING MOSS. 


197 


invitation to be seated, “ for it is precisely about 
him that I wish to have a serious talk with you. 
I am a plain business man, and I have little fond- 
ness for fine phrases. I am only led by the inter- 
ests of my best friend, which are yours equally. 
You see, my dear madame, that I have been watch- 
ing our good doctor for some months, and closely 
— there is something in his manner — how shall I 
put it ? — something that is not natural. He seems 
to be depressed — don’t you think so ? He must 
have made the same impression upon you ? I have 
investigated matters, and I think I’m on the right 
track — pardon me if I am too blunt. But you are 
a sensible woman, with whom one can speak plain 
English. I think — no, I am sure — that the engage- 
ment with Miss Martha — it is that which depresses 
him. But he is a man of honour, and could never 
bring himself to hurt the young lady ; he would 
keep to the engagement from a feeling of duty— 
Yes, that is all very well ; but what will come of 
it ? No good, surely ! Your daughter would be 
wretched and the doctor also. And a youthful 
blunder — good Lord! we,^have all been young 
once— I think a youthful blunder would be rather 
dearly paid for by the unhappiness of two people. 
So I say to myself : Once the evil is known, then 
for a speedy and resolute remedy, even if it should 


HANGING MOSS. 


198 

hurt for a time. And if the patients themselves 
are not aware of it, then we, their best friends, 
must act for them. AVhat do you think ? ” 

The widow had listened with that hard, immov- 
able expression which was peculiar with her when 
important matters were transpiring. Welsheim 
had no suspicion that he was troubling himself 
unnecessarily, and that what he had set to work to 
bring about was already an accomplished fact. 

“ I agree with you perfectly,” answered the 
widow. 

“ Excellent, excellent ! ” cried Welsheim, visibly 
flattered by the success of his eloquence, which 
had so often done him good service at the meet- 
ings of the Board of Trade. “If we agree on 
the main point, that it is our duty to bring the 
young people to the recognition of their mistake, 
we will soon agree on the details. I will undertake 
the doctor. I shall talk rather big, and explain to 
him that the literary beginner, who engages him- 
self to a modest young girl from a highly respect- 
able family, is quite another man from Hugo Hall, 
the author of ‘ Hercules and Omphale,’ who, from 
so-called honourable scruples, keeps from break- 
ing a bond already practically broken. This new 
Hugo Hall has duties towards mankind. He dare 
not marry a fine girl whom he does not love 


HANGING MOSS. 


199 


sufficiently to be made and to make happy. He 
ought not to wilfully kill his wonderful talents 
through a mistaken idea of his real duties — and 
soon! We will soon settle it. To you, dear 
madame, falls the harder task of convincing your 
daughter of the impossible state of affairs as they 
now stand. Without interfering in any way with 
your plans, I would make the humble suggestion 
that, if the two were separated for the time being, 
it would do away with a great deal of unpleasant- 
ness. We can easily overcome the difficulties in 
the way, and I would like to settle this point with 
you quietly and finally.” 

At this moment the door-bell rang. The widow 
rose. 

“ Excuse me for a moment. I shall be at your 
service immediately.” 

She purposely left the door open, to give Mr. 
Welsheim to understand that a shortening of the 
visit would be agreeable to her, for she had to re- 
ceive the doctor whom she had been expecting. 

It was in fact Dr. Lohausen, whom the widow 
ushered in. 

“ I could not manage to get here any sooner,” 
remarked the doctor apologetically. “ Now, then, 
what is wrong this time ? ” he continued, in his 
kindly, sonorous voice. 


200 


HANGING MOSS. 


“ Martha has been sleeping for two hours. I 
will take you to her at once, doctor. It is the 
same high fever again,” answered the widow. 

Welsheim had pricked up his ears. He recog- 
nised the voice. He was not mistaken ; as he 
stuck his head through the door, he saw his old 
friend and family physician. Dr. Lohausen. 

“ Doctor ! ” he exclaimed, in delighted surprise. 
“What a lucky meeting! ” 

“ Mr. Welsheim ! Why, what are you doing 
here ? ” 

“ I am having a conference with Mrs. Breuer.” 

“Well, go on quietly with your conference. I 
will take a look at our little patient in the mean 
time.” 

“Could you spare me a moment first? Un- 
fortunately, my time is limited, and I’m afraid I 
can hardly wait until you have seen your patient. 
Five minutes will be enough. — Will you allow me, 
my dear madame ? ” 

“ Certainly — I will wake Martha,” she added 
to the doctor. 

Lohausen stepped into the front room with 
Welsheim. 

“ It must have been fine at your house last 
night. The whole Thiergarten is chanting your 
praises. I was so sorry that I couldn’t come.” 


HANGING MOSS. 


201 


“Yes, it went off very well, I must say. What 
a voice that Vallini has ! ” 

“ I have heard all about it. Hoch seller leben! " 

“ Now to business ! You are the family physi- 
cian here ? ” 

“To be sure.” 

“ Indeed ! Do Mrs. Breuer’s means admit 
of—” 

“My means admit of my doing all I can to be 
of service to my old friend Breuer’s daughter.” 

“ So I supposed. Now, my dear doctor, I 
want to ask you a plain question, and the answer 
concerns me deeply. How is the young lady ? I 
know her but slightly, but she looks to me as if 
she were in a bad way.” 

“ I shall be committing no indiscretion if I say 
it to you that the poor child is exceedingly frail 
and delicate. She should go away to some milder 
climate, to a purer air and a warmer sun.” 

“ Why don’t you send her to Italy ? ” 

Lohausen stared at him. 

“ I don’t send her because she could not go.” 

Welsheim moved his first and second finger 
rapidly back and forth under his thumb. The 
doctor understood the pantomime and nodded as- 
sent. 

“ But that must be remedied,” said Welsheim. 


202 


HANGING MOSS. 


The doctor shrugged his shoulders. 

** You know I’m no lover of fine speeches. If 
you think it necessary that the young lady and her 
mother should spend six months or a year in Italy, 
the two thousand marks or so which are needed 
are at your disposal.” 

“ What ! ” cried Lohausen, in open astonish- 
ment. 

‘‘ It will make me no poorer. I admit that I 
have placed fifty per cent, of my earnings on 
change to-day to Mrs. Breuer’s account. And 
when it comes to be a question of a young girl’s 
health—” 

“ You do not know how much good you are 
doing! In my honest opinion as a doctor, it is a 
question of a human life. The girl will surely 
die if she stays here ; in Italy she may hope to re- 
gain her health.” 

“ So much the better,” said Welsheim, who, 
during the doctor’s last words, had already taken 
out his purse and counted out a considerable sum. 

That will be enough to begin with. For any 
further needs, I am, of course, at your disposal.” 

Lohausen took the money and shook Welsheim 
heartily by the hand. 

“You are a splendid fellow— a splendid fellow ! 
Once more I thank you heartily.” 


HANGING MOSS. 


203 


I have one thing more to say, though I 
scarcely need to, for of course it is understood : 
my name must not be mentioned, on any account. 
It would be unpleasant both for me and for Mrs. 
Breuer. You, as an old family friend, can say it 
is another old friend — or yourself. There, you 
can arrange the matter some way ! ” 

“You are a fine fellow!” repeated Lohausen, 
with an earnest shake of the hand. “ It is a noble 
deed, and it impresses me deeply. You can gain 
neither distinction nor honour by it, but, if you 
care for the respect of an honest man, you have 
it, my dear Welsheim ! ” 

“ It is not worth speaking of, doctor ! And 
now go to your patient. And would you kindly 
tell Mrs. Breuer that I should like to take leave 
of her ? ” 

With another shake of the hand, and a face 
radiant with pleasure, the doctor betook himself 
to the little bedroom. He knew that he carried 
the best medicine in his pocket. 

The interview between Welsheim and Mrs. 
Breuer lasted a few moments longer. The widow, 
who longed to be at her child’s bedside with the 
doctor, contented herself with coldly thanking Mr. 
Welsheim for his friendly interest, and with mak- 
ing the startling announcement that she had al- 


204 


HANGING MOSS. 


ready talked the matter over seriously with her 
daughter, and that Martha was also convinced 
that matters could not go on as they were. 

“ But the two must be separated ! ” exclaimed 
Welsheim. “ That is the principal thing ! Other- 
wise they will be falling into each other’s arms 
at the first meeting. Young people — is it not 
so?” 

‘‘ We shall see,” was the widow’s calm answer. 

Welsheim smiled contentedly as he stepped into 
his carriage and was driven quickly home. The 
rapidity and completeness of his success impressed 
even him. How Leonie would rejoice when he 
told her of his victory ! 

To his genuine delight the doctor found Mar- 
tha’s condition far less critical than he had feared. 
He had had a little talk in the sitting-room with 
the widow. Her stony face had brightened in un- 
speakable gladness as he told her what had hap- 
pened, and she could not restrain her tears of joy 
before the faithful old friend who patted her kindly 
on the shoulder, and said, every now and then : 
“ There, there, that will do ! Be sensible ! zum 
Teufel ! ” 

“ And I cannot thank this noble friend ? ” 

“ You will thank him by your child’s regained 
health — but in no other way.” 


HANGING MOSS. 


205 

“ Ah, doctor, I can hardly believe it ! Can I 
really accept it ? Can I ? ” 

“ I have already accepted it for you. And 
how much more should you take it for your child’s 
sake ! There is my answer.” 

“ For my poor child ! And now you hope — ? ” 
“ The best, my dear friend, the best ! ” 

“ I cannot believe it, I cannot realize it ! How 
wrong we are to doubt man’s goodness ! Yes, 
there are still good men ! And when the need is 
greatest help is nearest.” 

“ Now to come to practical matters : don’t lose 
any time ! Make all preparations for striking 
your tent as soon as possible — for six months or a 
year — the doctor there will tell you that. I think 
that Martha is equal to travelling. I shall come 
again to-morrow. I should like it if I could send 
her off at once. But she must not attempt to re- 
turn until the doctor there gives her permission. 
Good-bye, until to-morrow ! ” 

Welsheim had reached home. He sprang up 
the stairs more rapidly than was his custom, and 
rushed into the bow-window room so impetuously 
that Leonie, who stood behind the flower stands, 
looking down the street, started back in affright. 

‘‘Hello!” he exclaimed cheerfully. ‘'Your 
hair not yet dressed ? ” And, as he kissed her fore- 


2o6 


HANGING MOSS. 


head, he said with a smile : ‘‘ Do you know, you 
look the best just like this! People don’t know 
how beautiful you can be ! I am proud to think 
that you are so beautiful just for me.” He kissed 
her again on the forehead. “ Besides,” he went 
on playfully, madame est servie ! Everything is 
arranged. Spoke with the mother, spoke with the 
doctor, engagement to be broken — the little one 
sent to Italy — my name not mentioned. Every- 
thing unobtrusive ! I am to undertake our good 
Dr. Hugo. I shall soon settle him.” 

Leonie had not at first grasped what Felix 
meant. Not until he mentioned Hugo did it be- 
come clear to her. Instead of the warm congratu- 
lations which Welsheim expected to hear from his 
wife’s lips, what was his astonishment to hear 
nothing but reproaches ! 

“ There was no such great hurry about the 
matter ! ” exclaimed Leonie, whose forehead had 
settled into a deep frown. 

‘‘ What ! ” replied Felix, completely astounded. 
“ You said to me — ” 

Said ! ” broke in Leonie in the same annoyed 
tone. “ One says a good deal ! But when such 
serious things are involved, the pros and cons are 
usually carefully weighed. After the experience I 
had last evening, I should scarcely have advised 


HANGING MOSS. 


207 

you to play the part of Providence to Dr. 
Hall.” 

Why, what happened unusual last night ? ” 
asked Welsheim, in astonishment ; “ for you can’t 
be speaking of the play.” 

Scarcely anything unusual, for it has become 
an every-day occurrence, and I should have spoken 
of it long ago, had I not feared that a change in 
our relations with Dr. Hall before the first night 
might be regarded as a base desertion. We will 
be spared this reproach if we begin to treat him a 
little coldly after his triumph is assured.” 

“ I don’t understand what you mean. Why 
should things be any different between us and the 
doctor? ” 

“Because I will not stand his conduct any 
longer ! That is all ! ” 

“ But what has he done all of a sudden ? ” 

“ He tyrannizes over me in the most insup- 
portable fashion ; if you must know, he had grad- 
ually assumed rights here, without our noticing it, 
that do not belong to him. He wishes to rule here. 
This doesn’t please him, and that doesn’t please 
him. I speak too loudly ; I am too familiar with 
this person or that; one gown is too striking, 
another cut too low ! So it goes. I am always in 
mortal terror lest any one should overhear how he 
14 


2o8 


HANGING MOSS. 


lords it over me. For it doesn’t disturb him in the 
slightest. And if any one were to watch us, the 
very worst might be thought of me ! Do you know 
what I think, what alone can explain his conduct ? 
I almost believe he is in love with me ! ” 

“ Oh, nonsense ! ” exclaimed Felix, in the great- 
est astonishment. 

If he were my lover and possessed all the de- 
fects of a jealous husband, which you fortunately 
do not possess, his conduct could not be otherwise. 
It is intensely disagreeable to me — not on my ac- 
count alone.” 

“ Hm! hm! ” muttered Welsheim. He reflected 
for a moment, though without any very deep re- 
gret, that if Leonie had told him this earlier, he 
might have been two thousand marks in pocket.” 

“To be sure, you cannot put up with that!” 
Felix said, after a short pause, in a tone of deepest 
conviction. “ And I shall not put up with it either. 
So it came to a crisis Tast night? How did it 
happen ? ” 

“ He catechised me as usual about my amiabil- 
ity towards my guests. He wished to give me ad- 
vice as to how I should act towards Signor Vallini. 
And it was to him especially that I was under the 
greatest obligations.” 

“ To be sure ! We have him to thank for the 


HANGING MOSS. 


209 


brilliant success of our first reception, him alone. 
The whole Exchange was full of Hoch soil er 
lehen' I don’t know how we can compensate him. 
He probably has plenty of cravat pins.” 

“ For that very reason I thought it my duty to 
be especially friendly towards him. And it was 
about that, that Dr. Hall saw fit to make a scene. 
I was indignant, and I spoke my mind plainly to 
him.” 

“ You did perfectly right ! ” 

“ He was very much offended. But I can’t help 
it. I have nothing to regret, nothing to retract. 
Oh, yes, I had almost forgotten — Signor Vallini 
was here. A very nice man, as you see.” 

Welsheim looked somewhat disconcerted at this 
carelessly spoken remark. 

“ And you received him ? In this way ? ” He 
lifted a curly lock of the beautiful hair. 

Leonie gave a ringing laugh. 

“ Are you going to be jealous at last? It seems 
to be contagious. If you had let me finish, you 
would have learned that I did not receive him. 
We exchanged endearments through the door — 
he on one side, I on the other— and you could have 
listened in perfect peace as to everything I said. 
For the very reason that I could not show myself, 
and as it is my duty to be especially polite to 


210 


HANGING MOSS. 


Signor Vallini, I have invited him to dine with us 
to-night, sans fapn. You might get a box.” 

“ The theatres are utterly unattractive to-night. 
We should have to see ‘ Hercules and Omphale ’ a 
second time,” he added jestingly. 

‘‘That would not be so bad,” answered Leonie, 
with perfect seriousness. “ I did not see much of 
the play last night ; I was too excited, on account 
of our reception.” 

“ What, you really wish to go ? ” 

“ Really,” assented Leonie. 

“ It is utterly impossible, my dear Leonie ! 
Bought up to the last seat — everything.” 

“ You can always get something from the spec- 
ulators. And you know my confidence in your in- 
genuity.” 

“ Then I should have to go myself, and Vallini 
is coming to dine with us at six.” 

“ Then we will dine later. We need not be 
there at the beginning. And while you are se- 
curing the seats, I will try to fascinate the singer 
with all the charms of feminine art, and con- 
sole him for having to wait half an hour for his 
soup.” 

“ I will try, but I have little hope.” 

“ I have all the more. It would be the first 
time you have ever disappointed me.” 


HANGING MOSS. 


2II 


Felix kissed his wife. As he turned towards 
the door, he stopped for a moment and said: 

In passing I noticed the bronze group of 
* Hercules and Omphale.’ We shall have to send 
it to the doctor.” 

“ I will see to it. After last night’s scene it 
would not do to send it to-day.” 

“Very well. You see to it! I think lean be 
back by half past six; but I am afraid that I shall 
come with empty hands.” 


CHAPTER XII. 


Vallini appeared punctually at six o’clock. 
He had made himself very fine. In his button- 
hole was a half-opened Marechal Niel bud, care- 
fully arranged so as not to conceal the neighbour- 
ing rosette of bright-coloured ribbon. Leonie had 
also chosen her toilet with particular care and 
looked charming. 

For the first time in her life she felt a certain 
embarrassment as she rose and extended her hand 
for the singer to kiss. Yet there was a trace of 
sadness in her smile. 

“You are more punctual than we can be to- 
night,” she began, after they had seated them- 
selves. “ My husband is detained and will not be 
home for half an hour. I have promised him until 
then to — ” 

At this delightful news Vallini looked at her 
with a tender, languishing glance, and bent for- 
ward so as to bring his face nearer hers. But she 


HANGING MOSS. 


213 

drew back, and said in a cold, reproving, almost 
angry tone, Ah, I beg of you ! " 

The singer seemed to have little expected this 
rebuff, and he looked foolish and nonplussed. 

“ I am very glad," continued Leonie in the 
same tone, “ that this undisturbed interview gives 
me the opportunity of exchanging something be- 
sides trivialities with you. I shall not make my- 
self so ridiculous as to say to you, * What must 
you think of me ! ’ But I am very anxious that 
you should learn to know me better. You left a 
crazy woman when you went away this noon — I 
do not know what you did to me. A rational 
woman is speaking to you now; I was beside 
myself — I have now come to my senses." 

“ But, my charming friend," broke in Vallini, 
with a smile, “ why do you speak of it ? My 
discretion — " 

“You need not attempt to reassure me," Leonie 
interrupted, in dismay, “ Do you suppose that it 
is fear that drives me to speak to you in this way ? 
I am seeking refuge — but not from other.s. I am 
seeking refuge from myself — from my torturing 
thoughts." 

“ Why do you torture yourself ?" said Vallini, 
who did not understand Leonie at all. “ You take 
the matter in far too tragic a way." 


214 


HANGING MOSS. 


Leonie looked in surprise at the man who sat 
opposite her, stroking his moustache. In an in- 
stant she felt herself removed a thousand miles 
from him. He lived in quite another world, in 
quite another atmosphere. 

“ I met him when I left you this morning,” Val- 
lini went on, glad to be able to place the conver- 
sation on the firm footing of facts. 

“Whom?” asked Leonie indifferently. 

“ Our good doctor,” answered Vallini, with a 
contemptuous laugh. “ He looked wretchedly.” 

“ You are speaking of Dr. Hall ? That the ex- 
citement of last night left its mark on him — ” 

“ Oh, that is not it ! ” broke in the singer inso- 
lently. “ The poor fellow is jealous.” He attempt- 
ed to take Leonie’s hand to kiss it. Leonie rose. 

“ Jealous of you ?” she said, with a strong em- 
phasis. 

“To be sure,” answered Vallini, in a self-satis- 
fied way. 

“ Why should he be ? ” 

“ Instinct, my dear lady ! ” 

“ And if he were to know all, why should he be 
jealous ? ” 

“ Well,” said Vallini, after a while, in some em- 
barrassment at this minute cross-examination, “I 
should think — if he knew — ” 


HANGING MOSS. 


215 


“ I quite understand,” cried Leonie mockingly. 
“ You believe, as so many do, that Dr. Hall is my 
lover ! Am I not right ? Appearances do indeed 
seem to indicate as much ! We are so much to- 
gether; we are young — that is sufficient for peo- 
ple. Yet, in spite of all talk, fhere is nothing in 
it, strange to say. It is true that Dr. Hall is very 
congenial to me, as a man and as an author ; that 
as very good friends our relations have been most 
intimate. We have never made a secret of it, for 
we had no reason to conceal anything. Anything 
else that people may say is nonsense or malice, 
foolish gossip or vulgar slander! There! Now 
you know all ! And you are the only man who 
has had any interest in knowing the truth, and 
the only one to whom I have felt in duty bound 
to tell the truth ! ” 

Vallini smiled more and more broadly. 

“ What is the use of exciting yourself so unne- 
cessarily?” he said, with offensive magnanimity. 
“And if it were different from what you say, I 
should not take it amiss for a moment ! I know 
the world ! And I am much more tolerant than 
you think.” 

Leonie paled. All the blood rushed to her 
heart. She realized at that instant how she had 
lowered herself. That this man should look upon 


2i6 


HANGING MOSS. 


her as one of a common herd — she could not en- 
dure the thought. He should not rank her so 
low ! He must have a better opinion of her ! 
She turned a helpless, troubled look upon him. 

“ I require no tolerance ! ” she exclaimed bit- 
terly. “ And if I should swear to you — ” 

“ I believe you without that. I believe any- 
thing you wish. But let us drop these unpleasant 
subjects. Let us be happy. Comfort above every- 
thing — that is my principle! Besides, I must not 
excite myself so. I live for my art ! One who 
has to express so much emotion on the stage, give 
up his very soul, his heart’s blood, must be sensi- 
ble in ordinary life. I am no Philistine ; I amuse 
myself as well as anybody, but I never forget 
what I owe to my art ! If I lived in any other 
way, do you suppose I should have won the suc- 
cess I have everywhere ? You have seen a sample 
of it here. But it was nothing in comparison with 
Dresden, Munich, Plamburg, You must have read 
it in the papers ? ” 

Leonie nodded assent. She could not utter a 
word. A shudder ran through her. For a moment 
she could hardly restrain her anger, and she had 
the strongest desire to fling the insolent wretch, 
who showed his disrespect with such open and un- 
generous brutality, out of the door. Then she 


HANGING MOSS. 


217 

confessed to herself in bitter shame and contrition 
that her incomprehensible conduct was alone re- 
sponsible for all the humiliation and insults she 
was now suffering. She realised at the same time 
that any attempt to make this man understand her 
would be perfectly useless. She made an effort to 
smile indifferently, and said at last, for the sake of 
saying something : “You are really to be envied. 
It must be a wonderful sensation to affect the peo- 
ple from the stage.” 

She closed her eyes for a moment in exhaus- 
tion, and sighed, as though she had accomplished a 
heavy task. 

“The effect! That’s it!” cried Vallini, who 
was now in his element. “You have hit the nail 
on the head ! That is our only reward ! I am 
really not conceited ! But when one stands up 
there, when one feels what an effect one can pro- 
duce through the power of art — it is something ! 
Then one can well say to one’s self, ‘ You give your 
best, your all, but you have not given it in vain ! ’ ” 

“ Yes, indeed !•” answered Leonie, who had not 
been listening to a word. She was glad when the 
painful Ute-h-tite with the tenor was interrupted 
by the noiseless entrance of her husband. 

“You will be pleased with me,” he cried, rather 
noisily, after he had shaken Vallini’s hand and 


2i8 hanging moss. 

kissed Leonie’s forehead. I have succeeded in 
getting three front seats. Don’t ask me how ! But 
you know your wish is law to me. — And now, my 
dear Vallini, give my wife your arm. If we want 
to see anything at all of the play, we must sit down 
to dinner immediately.” 

“ Are you going to the theatre to-night ? ” 
asked Vallini, as he escorted Leonie to the dining- 
room. 

“ I did not tell you before, because I did not 
know whether my husband could get the seats,” 
answered Leonie. “ I intended asking you to ac- 
company us to the theatre for an hour or so. I 
wished to see how the play would be received by 
the impartial audience of the second night. But I 
confess that the desire is gone, and I think we had 
better spend the evening comfortably together 
here.” 

They had entered the dining-room and taken 
their places at the round table, which was as pro- 
fusely decorated with rare flowers as on great 
occasions. 

Welsheim scarcely believed his ears. 

“ But permit me ! ” he exclaimed in comical in- 
dignation. “What was the use of my driving 
around for an hour and moving heaven and earth 
and interviewing all the speculators — just to have 


HANGING MOSS. 


219 


you say, ‘ I have changed my mind ’ ? No, my 
dear, that won’t do ! I have something to say now. 
— You see,” he said, turning laughingly to Vallini, 
“ how I tyrannize over my poor wife ! ” 

Vallini relished the idea of showing himself 
again to-night before the admiring public, at the 
side of the famous Mrs. Welsheim ; and if Dr. 
Hall, who would undoubtedly be at the theatre, 
should see them together, why, so much the better. 
The malicious joy he took in the thought only 
added zest to the idea. 

Why should we give up the seats ? ” he said in 
acquiescence. “ I think it would be really very 
nice to spend an hour at the theatre after dinner. 
I join in the entreaties of your husband.” 

Leonie made a few more attempts to bring the 
men to her way of thinking, but she finally had to 
withdraw her opposition, when she plainly saw 
from Vallini’s words that he thought that she 
feared to show herself before Dr. Hall at his side. 
Even if it were the truth, Vallini must not think so. 

The dinner was very good, the wines excellent. 
Vallini carried on a monologue concerning himself 
and his successes. He was therefore in the gayest 
of humours. While the men were drinking their 
coffee and blissfully smoking their Henry Clays, 
Leonie prepared herself for the theatre. 


220 


HANGING MOSS. 


Towards nine o’clock, during the impressive 
closing scene of the second act, while the audience 
was listening in breathless attention, there rose in 
one of the boxes an annoying stir which was 
angrily observed by many, and even greeted with 
hisses of protest by those who sat near by. Leonie, 
Welsheim, and Vallini took their places in the box, 
the only remaining seats in the house. 

. The attention of almost the entire house was 
directed for the moment from the stage to the new 
arrivals, and even the actors on the boards and 
behind the scenes were aware that something 
unexpected and unwonted had happened. The 
manager stuck his head far enough out of his 
latticed box to discover the cause of the disturb- 
ance. 

Those cursed parvenues ! ” he muttered be- 
tween his teeth, loud enough to be heard by Hugo, 
who sat in a corner of the dark wing. “It is a 
shameful want of consideration. Our good friends 
again, of course ! Our gracious hostess of yester- 
day — and the great Vallini must be there again as 
a matter of course! ” 

Hugo, who had awakened more tired than re- 
freshed from his deep sleep, and had scarcely had 
time to pass the sponge over his head and dress 
himself for the theatre, so as to be on the spot at 


HANGING MOSS. 


221 


the beginning of the play, heard the manager’s 
words without much emotion. He bent forward a 
little and looked in the direction indicated, but his 
eyes were too blinded by the glare of the foot- 
lights to be able to distinguish anything in the 
darkened house. He saw only a gray-black mass 
with a few brighter touches here and there. 

Fortunately, the occurrence had no unfavour- 
able results. At the end of the act the applause 
was deafening, even more so than on the previous 
night. When the artists had appeared time after 
time, and the applause still continued, there sud- 
denly rose — what was most unusual at a second 
performance — a call for the author. At first, from 
only a few. But this call found a general and 
enthusiastic echo. The clapping became more 
impetuous, and the calls more violent. With a 
radiant face the heroine hurried to the first wing 
and dragged the author — who this time resisted in 
earnest— out of his dark retreat, on to the brilliant 
stage, amidst the repeated, ever-increasing shouts 
of the audience. 

Hugo was pitiably white. He bowed awk- 
wardly, as yesterday, and as yesterday he glanced 
up at Leonie. But with a very different expres- 
sion. Now he plainly saw the three. Dark, 
threatening, terrifying was his look as he saw 


222 


HANGING MOSS. 


Leonie seated beside Vallini. For the second and 
third time he was forced to appear on the stage. 
He had now mastered himself, and looked straight 
ahead of him, at the restless, seething crowd which 
cheered him to the echo. 

Leonie had placed too much reliance in herself. 
A sharp pain shot through her heart as she met 
Hugo’s gaze. She alone had understood the look. 
She leaned back in her chair and heard a woman 
bebind her say to her neighbour : 

“ The poor man looks really ill. His success 
seems to be too much for him. One is apt to think 
of a successful author as something very different. 
But he has an interesting face.” 

It was anything but unpleasant to Leonie that 
Vallini, who had many calls to make in the differ- 
ent boxes, left her alone between the acts with 
Felix. It was at least not necessary for her to 
speak. 

The last act, of which Leonie heard but little, 
assured the overwhelming success of the play. As 
soon as the curtain had fallen, she left with her 
escort. In the corridor she heard the repeated 
calls for the author, and she was glad that she 
could not see the white face with the despairing 
eyes. 

Vallini murmured a few commonplace words of 


HANGING MOSS. 


223 

thanks for the pleasant evening, and was about to 
take his leave. 

“ I don’t think that we need to separate quite 
yet,” said Leonie, as they slowly descended the 
crowded stairs. “ We might have a little supper 
somewhere — ” 

“ Unfortunately, I must deny myself that pleas- 
ure,” smirked Vallini. “ An appointment — ” 

“ Ah ! Then I will not disturb your plans,” 
Leonie answered, secretly much offended. It had 
never occurred to her before that any one could 
refuse an invitation of hers. 

“ I would gladly stay another hour or so with 
you,” continued Vallini ingenuously. “But you 
can imagine how much I am in demand.” 

“ Certainly ! And when shall we see you 
again ? ” 

“ Very soon, of course ! I cannot say definitely 
when. We artists are slaves to duty — you under- 
stand — ” 

“ Perfectly.” 

“ If possible, I will call to-morrow, to inquire 
how you are — but without any definite promise ! ” 

Leonie nodded. 

“ Then, once more, dear madame, my obedient 
thanks ! Mr. Welsheim — I have the honour ! ” 

Welsheim had called the carriage. Vallini 
15 


224 


HANGING MOSS. 


waved his shining silk hat once more as Leonie 
stepped in, and then betook himself at once to 
Dressel’s, where he was eagerly awaited by a merry 
company. 

Well, where to ? ” Welsheim had asked as 
Leonie settled herself in the corner of the carriage. 

“ Home ! ” 

Home ! ” he called to the coachman. 


CHAPTER XIII. 


Leonie had retired at once to her own rooms 
after the performance. She had sat many long 
hours in joyless brooding, on the divan at the foot 
of her bed, and it was three o’clock before she final- 
ly lay down ; but it was long past that hour when 
she was at last released from her unrefreshing, 
half-waking state, and fell into a deep sleep. At 
ten o’clock she touched the electric bell at the side 
of her bed. Germaine hurried in, wished her mis- 
tress “good morning,” and brought her, in addition 
to the morning papers, a note in a well-known 
hand. Leonie looked at the envelope awhile, un- 
certain whether to open it now or after she had 
bathed and breakfasted. After a little reflection, 
she tore it open. It contained only a card, with 
the name “ Hugo Hall,” to which were added the 
words, “ Earnestly and respectfully begs for the 
favour of an interview.” 

“ An answer is awaited,” observed Ger- 


maine. 


226 


HANGING MOSS. 


“ Indeed ! ’’ Leonie asked in astonishment. 
“ Has the messenger been waiting long ? " 

“ Something like an hour, madame.’* 

“ Tell him that he may return at noon.’' 

Leonie did not know, indeed, what answer she 
should send to Hugo. It was painful in the ex- 
treme for her to meet him now. She knew that 
there would be a disagreeable, perhaps even a vio- 
lent scene, and she shrank from it. But she real- 
ised at the same time that she could not deny 
Hugo the desired interview. 

The deep depression which had dominated her 
yesterday, caused by the humiliation she had suf- 
fered, and which had increased during the long, 
solitary hours of the past night, was not dispelled 
by the short sleep; and, in the blind injustice of 
which a guilty conscience is alone capable, she was 
inclined to make Hugo responsible for all that she 
had done, and all the insults that Vallini had in- 
flicted upon her. She scarcely gave a thought to 
the foolish man, who had boasted of his successes 
while she was longing for a comforting word. To 
her own dismay, she found that she must abandon 
all hope of an intellectual intercourse with him. 
He had not understood her at all when she at- 
tempted to defend herself and to put her conduct 
in a better light. Hugo had spoiled her. He 


HANGING MOSS. 


227 


understood her slightest intimation, he read her 
thoughts in her eyes ; it had even been annoying 
to her, the way in which he divined her most secret 
feelings. She knew what to expect of him, she 
could be angry with him — Vallini had not known 
what to make of her anger — and all the bitterness, 
all the disappointment, all the shame that she felt, 
combined in a feeling of rage against Hugo. 

What did he want of her now ? What was the 
purport of the interview which he demanded, and 
which could only be painful and exciting for both ? 
Had she not suffered enough already ? This was 
the way he thanked her for all she had done for 
him ! If he had ever really loved her, he should 
know that he must spare her now. 

She could not, would not see him. She stepped 
to the little desk which stood in the window corner 
of her bedroom, took a visiting card, and wrote 
under the name '‘Mrs. Felix Welsheim " the words, 
“Will be at home to-morrow afternoon at two 
o’clock.” She put the card into a scented envel- 
ope and gave it to Germaine. 

“ Here is the answer which is to be called for 

later.” 

She gave a sigh of relief when she had finished 
the disagreeable task. Now, at least, she would 
have a day’s freedom from him. • 


228 


HANGING MOSS. 


Why had he written her ? What did he want of 
her ? 

Hugo, too, had he asked himself this question, 
would have been at a loss for an answer. He did 
not know himself what he should say to her. He 
only knew that he could not leave her like this; 
that he must at least see her and speak to her 
once again. Once again ! Had it really come to 
this ? He could not grasp what had happened, but 
he had the distinct feeling that the bond between 
him and Leonie was not weakened by a senseless 
caprice, but was really broken. 

He sat in his room, in which his belongings were 
still standing unpacked in the corners, and waited 
for Leonie’s answer. He waited in vain. The 
comfortless surroundings increased his uneasiness. 

Towards eleven o’clock there was a knock at 
the door. Instead of the expected letter from 
Leonie, the maid handed him a card, and announced 
at the same time that a gentleman wished to see 
the doctor on very important business. Hugo 
read, “ Bernhard Scherfer, theatrical manager.” 

“ Show the gentleman in,” he instructed the 
girl. 

Soon after, a young man of some thirty-five 
years entered the room. He was well dressed, and 
had a keen look about him. He bowed with al- 


HANGING MOSS. 


229 

most obsequious politeness, and, after he had ac 
cepted Hugo’s invitation to be seated, he began a 
long proposition in a sonorous voice and with great 
facility of expression. 

“ I have looked for you in vain at your former 
lodgings. Your landlady either would not or 
could not give me your new address, and if we 
were not supplied with so good a police service I 
might have searched for you for some days yet. I 
trust I am not too late. Have you already dis- 
posed of your new play ? That is to say, have 
you given any manager the right of producing the 
play in other cities ? ” 

“ A good many gentlemen have made me of- 
fers, but I have had no time as yet to consider 
them.” 

“ I am glad to hear it. Then, if you will permit 
me, I will make you a proposition. I would like to 
relieve you of the cares concerning the business 
arrangements of the play, and I mean that in the 
broadest sense of the word. I have seen your play, 
and I foresee further success, not only here, but in 
Austria, in Munich, Dresden, etc., and also in the 
provinces. I tell you this, so that you may not 
confound me with those people who depreciate 
a good thing in order to get it cheaper. And I 
am not at all averse to buying your play outright. 


230 


HANGING MOSS. 


You would transfer all rights to me — the right of 
representation in all countries, and at my sole ex- 
pense — and I would pay you eight thousand tha- 
lers, cash down, immediately on signing the con- 
tract. I do not believe that such an offer has ever 
been made before to a young playwright in Ger- 
many. I may as well add that, in spite of that, I 
expect to make a very good thing out of it for 
myself ; and if my expectations should be disap- 
pointed, I feel sure of making good the deficit on 
your next play. You would promise to intrust all 
your future plays to me, as I know you would be 
perfectly satisfied with my management.” 

Hugo was completely taken by surprise by the 
manager’s offer. Until now, his whole life had 
been a struggle for existence. In order to make a 
better outward appearance than his circumstances 
warranted, he had undergone the greatest priva- 
tions in every other respect. The sums that he 
had received for his feuilletons and scientific arti- 
cles had been very modest, but all that they were 
worth ; and it was due entirely to his economical 
turn of mind, and his strength of will to renounce 
all the expensive pleasures of life, that he could 
keep up the appearance of being free from money 
troubles, before the widow as well as others. Now 
this man unexpectedly offered him a sum which 


HANGING MOSS. 


231 


represented ten times the amount of his yearly 
income. Hitherto he had thought but vaguely of 
the market value of his play. The idea that it 
could be sold for many thousands had never oc- 
curred to him. Scherfer’s offer filled his mind so 
completely that for the time being he entirely for- 
got all his troubles. 

“You have spoken to me frankly,” he said, 
when Scherfer had ended, “and that forces me to 
be equally frank. I will tell you plainly that I 
would accept your offer with pleasure, for I am 
inexperienced in such matters, and I should be very 
glad to have no further trouble with business ar- 
rangements, if you had not included any future 
dramatic work of mine. On that point I can make 
no promises, far less bind myself by a contract. I 
am very doubtful as to whether I shall write an- 
other play. So I can only treat with you concern- 
ing ‘ Hercules and Omphale.’ ” 

Scherfer had listened to Hugo’s words with a 
superior smile. 

“Well, well,” he said, in the suavest tone, “if 
you prefer it, we will talk only of the piece that is 
finished. But promise me one thing : that, in case 
you write a new piny, you will make no definite 
arrangements concerning it without having first 
consulted me ? ” 


232 


HANGING MOSS. 


“I can promise you that much with a clear 
conscience.” 

That suits me perfectly,” Scherfer broke in 
with a friendly smile. “ And, take an old hand’s 
word for it, you will go on writing for the stage. 
You will achieve other brilliant successes. In all 
probability you will get a set-back some time or 
other, and you will take a solemn vow never to 
write another play. But you will do it, just the 
same ! There is one thing very queer about the 
stage : once you have had anything to do with it, 
you can’t free yourself from it. And the man that 
has especial talent in writing for it must continue 
writing for it, whether he will or no. We will have 
another talk about it when a year is over.” 

“You may be mistaken, for all that ! ” 

“ I will take the risk. Are you ready, then, to 
sell me your play under the conditions named, with- 
out binding yourself in any way for the future?” 

“ Yes.” 

Scherfer reached out his hand to Hall. 

“ Then it is settled,” the manager said, with a 
hearty shake of the hand. “ Since I foresaw that 
our negotiations would end in this way, I took 
the liberty of bringing with me two copies of the 
contract, as I outlined it. You see it is short and 
simple.” 


HANGING MOSS. 


233 


He handed Hugo the document which he had 
taken from his breast pocket. It contained but a 
few lines : for the sum of eight thousand thalers, 
Dr. Hall transferred all rights in his play, “ Her- 
cules and Omphale,” to the manager, Bernhard 
Scherfer. Hugo nodded assent. 

“ If you will sign it," Scherfer continued, “ we 
can settle the matter at once." 

With these words, he drew out his pocket- 
book, which contained the purchase money al- 
ready counted and done up in a package. He 
handed Hugo the money. Hugo signed one copy 
of the contract, and received in return the other 
copy with Scherfer’s signature. With another 
shake of the hand the business was concluded. 
Scherfer, after saying a few more courteous words 
of thanks for the prompt settling of the matter, 
withdrew with a satisfied smile and the same deep, 
respectful bow with which he had presented him- 
self. 

The whole transaction had taken less than 
twenty minutes, and in this short time one of the 
most momentous events in Hugo’s existence had 
taken place. The glad certainty of knowing that 
he was free, for years to come, from the harassing 
question of money, was now his. This knowledge 
brought with it a remarkable calmness and self- 


234 


HANGING MOSS. 


reliance. Again and again he drew the crisp notes 
through his fingers, and counted them over. For 
the first time in his life he felt the pleasure of 
possession. He drew a deep breath, and gazed at 
the fresh bills with a satisfied smile. But he had 
a certain feeling of shame as well, that the inci- 
dent had been able to change his mood so com- 
pletely even for a moment, that now a thousand 
vague plans, whose realisation had been made 
possible all at once, flashed through his head and 
removed him far from all the tormenting thoughts 
that had been torturing him so cruelly for thirty- 
six long hours. He secretly reproached himself 
that anything so trifling as money could make him 
forget his pain at Leonie’s conduct. He also 
thought with sadness of poor Martha — but the 
knowledge of having reached at a bound the goal 
which until this moment had seemed so far away 
and unattainable, of having gained that independ- 
ence for which he had always longed, of having 
slipped olf the galling chains that had held him 
in Berlin for years, gave him a feeling of such 
intense joy that all his former troubles appeared 
to him in another light. Here was the opportunity 
of escaping from it all. He could travel, he could 
bury himself in any remote corner of the world, 
when he longed for solitude ; he could go to Paris 


HANGING MOSS. 


235 


or to London when he wished to amuse himself; 
he could let the strong influences of the foreign 
countries in the East or in the West work upon 
him — he was free, he was his own master. What- 
ever the future might bring him, he could now 
await it calmly. 

And he smiled at himself in incredulous shame, 
to think that this wretched money could have 
worked this change. 

This was his frame of mind when Leonie’s 
answer was brought to him. It made but a slight 
impression upon him, it hardly surprised him ; it 
only confirmed what he had anticipated. He 
glanced at the trunks and boxes that had not yet 
been opened, and said half aloud, “ I hardly think 
that I will unpack them yet.” 

His one desire was to get away from the city 
which had ceased to have any attraction for 
him. 

Leonie had dressed leisurely. The afternoon 
seemed an eternity to her. She longed to exert 
herself— to take a drive, to go calling ; but each 
plan was given up almost as soon as it was con- 
ceived. She was nervous and uneasy. She did 
not want to see any one in whom she took no 
particular interest. And perhaps she might miss 
Vallini. The thought of his call was far from 


HANGING MOSS. 


236 

pleasing to her, but she felt that she must see 
him, and try once more to make him think dif- 
ferently of her. She must do it in moral self- 
defence. 

She walked back and forth in the bow-window 
room. She sat down at her desk to answer a few 
unimportant notes which had long been waiting a 
reply, but she could not settle herself even to that. 
She took up the latest French novel. Her eyes 
wandered over the pages, but she did not grasp 
the meaning of a single word, and she put the 
book down. She opened the piano. The first 
notes she struck grated on her ear, and she got up 
again. Again and again she went to the broad 
bow window and looked down the street. Vallini 
did not come. For a moment she almost regretted 
that she had appointed the interview with Hugo 
for the following day. Painful as it would be to 
see him at this time, he at least would not have 
kept her waiting. 

And even if the meeting with him should be 
ever so stormy, any excitement was preferable to 
this insupportable waiting — to this torturing un- 
certainty. 

It was a relief to her when Felix returned from 
the Exchange, and greeted her in his impetuous 
though somewhat boisterous manner. She could 


HANGING MOSS. 


237 


not conceal from him that she was out of temper. 
Felix proposed every conceivable plan for her 
amusement, but she rejected everything, and went 
to her own room immediately after dinner. And a 
miserable evening ended the uncomfortable day. 


CHAPTER XIV. 


When Dr. Lohausen stopped at Mrs. Breuer’s 
at noon, feeling sure that he could give his youth- 
ful patient permission for an immediate departure, 
he was painfully surprised. Mrs. Breuer did not 
belong to that class of foolishly nervous mothers, 
and therefore her anxious air foreboded nothing 
good. The widow told the doctor that the after- 
noon before, shortly after he had left, the fever 
had returned with renewed violence, and towards 
evening had assumed an alarming character. It 
had gradually subsided, leaving Martha surpris- 
ingly strong. 

“ She seemed bright and well,” Mrs. Breuer 
continued. “ Her cheeks were flushed, her eyes 
brighter than ever, and she looked like one in 
perfect health. She was in good spirits, almost 
high spirits, gayer than I have seen her for weeks 
and months. We made all manner of fine plans 
for the future — we had settled what we should 
do in Italy — when all at once she became very 


HANGING MOSS. 


239 


much agitated, apparently over nothing. I think 
we were speaking of whether we should buy one 
large trunk or two smaller ones for our journey — 
the tears started to her eyes. ‘ We shall not need 
any trunk,’ she sobbed. ‘ I can not travel.’ I 
tried to soothe her, and very thoughtlessly asked 
her why she could not travel. ‘ Because I’m going 
to die,’ she answered, and burst into tears. Then 
that same dreadful, hacking cough came back. It 
seemed to tire her out completely, and at last she 
fell asleep from sheer exhaustion. She has been 
awake since ten o’clock or thereabouts. She seems 
to be much weaker. But you will see for yourself. 
I am afraid that nothing will come of our beauti- 
ful trip.” 

“ We will see, we will see,” the doctor answered, 
and entered the little room where Martha lay. Lo- 
hausen signed to the widow that he wished to be 
left alone with his patient. 

“Well, my dear Martha,” the doctor began, as 
he sat down near the bed and gently took the 
girl’s hot, dry hand in his, “ so you still have 
that wretched cough and fever ! That was not in 
the contract ! Yesterday you were getting on 
finely, and now mamma tells me — Have you 
been doing anything imprudent ? ” 

“ Not yesterday, but the night before.” 

16 


240 


HANGING MOSS. 


“ In the night ? ” Lohausen asked, in astonish- 
ment. 

Martha nodded. 

“What did you do? You know that you can 
trust me.” 

“ I went out secretly in the night. I was jeal- 
ous — of my fiance — of Dr. Hall — I followed him. 
Mamma does not know it. It was cold and rained 
very hard — I probably caught cold then.” 

“ Child ! child ! ” the doctor exclaimed indig- 
nantly. But he calmed himself immediately, and 
added in a kindly tone : “ Well, that can’t be un- 
done now, so I sha’n’t scold you, though you have 
done a pretty thing, you bad child. But I said 
that I wasn’t going to scold you. Now, then, how 
do you feel ? ” 

“ The cough distresses me very much. I have 
such a strange feeling of tightness and oppression 
on my chest. My heart seems to break loose and 
press downward — and against my ribs — ” 

“ H’m ! h’m ! — the same old pain ? ” 

“Only more violent, doctor.” 

“ Well, I will prescribe something soothing for 
you. We want to try and get rid of the fever at 
least ; but medicine alone will not do it. The 
main thing lies with you. You must use all your 
strength of will to remain as calm as possible, to 


HANGING MOSS. 


241 


avoid any excitement. If you are worried by any 
bad thoughts, call your mother, and remember 
that you have your best friend by you ; remember 
that you are going to take a delightful journey, 
and that you must get well. You are really to be 
pitied,” he continued playfully, as he stroked the 
little hand. “ You must leave this cold, damp 
Berlin ; you must go to that beautiful land ^ wo 
die Citrone bliihen,’ where people are always 
happy, you poor child. I wish I could go with 
you. Now, my dear child, you must be very good 
and keep calm. Do you hear ? And when the 
bad thoughts come, remember that everything will 
soon be all right ; that in a few days you will be 
where there is warmth and sunshine, and the 
grandest scenery our dear Lord has created. And 
what you have told me of your mad escapade is a 
secret between us. I shall come again to-morrow. 
Good-bye, my dear Martha — good-bye, my child.” 

While the doctor was writing the prescription 
the widow looked at him anxiously. “Well, it 
might be better,” he said. “ But I hope it will 
turn out all right. Take her temperature this 
evening, and if it goes up to a hundred and four, 
send for me. Good-bye— it is to be hoped until 
to-morrow morning. Good-bye, my dear friend.” 

Shortly before midnight Dr. Lohausen was 


242 


HANGING MOSS. 


again called to Martha’s side. The fever had 
risen to a hundred and five. He remained over 
an hour by the sick girl. He comforted the 
mother, who was weeping bitterly, and yet did 
not betray her grief by a sound to Martha, who 
lay there with closed eyes and flushed cheeks, 
breathing heavily, and racked by a hard, dry 
cough. 


CHAPTER XV. 


The next day — it was a Friday — Hugo betook 
himself at the appointed hour to the house on the 
Victoria Strasse, where he had spent the happiest 
as well as the unhappiest hours of his life. He 
had a solemn foreboding that this would be the 
last time that he should cross the threshold. He 
had never paid any especial attention to the sur- 
roundings before, but now he looked closely at 
each step he ascended, the bell that he pulled, and 
the door that was opened to him ; he realised that 
he would never see them again, that he was taking 
farewell of them forever. 

He even looked with a certain melancholy re- 
gret at John, who told him that madame was await- 
ing him in the bow-window room. John, too, who 
had always been devoted to the doctor, seemed 
embarrassed and depressed as he made the an- 
nouncement : the fact that he had received orders 
from his mistress to show Signor Vallini marked 
respect, and to deny her to the doctor, had been 


244 


HANGING MOSS. 


quite sufficient to give the quick-witted servant a 
clear insight into the state of affairs. And he was 
sorry for the doctor, who had always been so kind 
to him. 

Leonie wore a dark, sober-coloured gown, of 
studious simplicity. She was very pale, and ap- 
peared worn and nervous. As Hugo entered, she 
rose and took a few steps towards him, inclined her 
head a little, and put out her hand; her manner 
was civil but cool. 

“ Pardon me for not being able to receive you 
yesterday or the day before,” she said quietly, but 
in a softer voice than she was accustomed to use. 
“ I was really ill. I am still. And, therefore, I 
want to beg you, above all, not to make a scene. 
Tell me what you have to say, quietly. I can en- 
dure anything, so long as you do not make a scene 
—on account of things that I can not change, that 
I would not change, since they are perfectly harm- 
less. You have no idea how you injure yourself 
by regarding my simplest actions as wrong, because 
of your foolish jealousy. Be sensible ! Remember 
what I have been to you, what I still am to you, if 
you will only have it so. And now tell me what 
you have to say ! ” 

“ What you still are to me ? ” Hugo repeated. 
** Do you really mean that ? Then how shall I 


HANGING MOSS. 


245 


reconcile all that which has happened in these two 
interminable days, with what you were to me ? ” 

“ Why, what has happened ? ” asked Leonie, 
ready for the fray. 

“Well, why did you refuse to see me yester- 
day ? ” 

“ Because I was ill ! I have already told you 
that ! ” 

“ But yet, not ill enough to show the other man 
the door.” 

“ I do not understand you. What other man?” 

“Vallini, if you will insist upon hearing the 
name ! ” 

“ I did not receive him ! ” Leonie retorted defi- 
antly. 

“ I saw him leave the house.” 

“ Did you see him here — here, inside the 
house, where I received him ? Ah ! so you doubt 
my word ? Then question the servants — it would 
hardly astonish me ! ” 

“ Then you wish to make me believe — ” 

“ Not the slightest thing, my dear Hugo ! ” 
Leonie interrupted, with cutting coolness. “Be- 
lieve anything you please. Torment yourself all 
you like, but don’t torment me, I earnestly request 
you — I do not need to justify myself before you, 
and I will not do it.” 


246 


HANGING MOSS. 


Then explain one thing to me : did you not 
realise how deeply it would hurt me to see you 
together at the theatre, where I could not es- 
cape Seeing you ? You might have spared me 
that ! ” 

** I am not at all to blame for that. The gen- 
tlemen insisted upon going again, and all that I 
could say against it had no effect. Pray do not 
smile in that sceptical way ! It is true ! It is in 
such trivial matters as these that I have to respect 
my husband’s wishes in order to — to make amends 
for other things. I am very sorry to haVe to speak 
so plainly to you. But you are always insulting 
me by your suspicions! You never think of the 
duties which my life, as it now is, imposes upon me ! 
You injure yourself more than you suspect, by such 
foolishness and injustice. You tyrannise over 
me, you torment me without the slightest cause. 
Do you think a woman exists who would endure 
such treatment long ? I have some independence, 
and I am accustomed to be treated with respect. 
You love me, you love me — you tell me so, and I 
am ready to believe you. But when you have said 
that, you think that all is said ! You torment me 
to death, and your only excuse is, you love me ! 
No, my dear Hugo, that is not true love ! True 
love suffereth long and is kind ; true love envieth 


HANGING MOSS. 


247 


not, doth not behave itself unseemly, beareth all 
things, believeth all things, hopeth all things, en- 
dureth all things ! — When I think of these glori- 
ous wordg of the apostle, I really have to doubt 
whether you have ever loved me truly.” 

“ Do you doubt it ? Then listen to me. You 
have been my all, the air that I breathe, the sun 
that gives me light and warmth ; and since I feared 
that I had lost you, I have wandered through dark- 
ness and night like a lost soul ! No, this existence 
is worse than death ! You shall not turn away 
from me — you shall not ! ” Hugo broke forth in 
dull despair. He pressed his hands to his temples 
and groaned. 

When Leonie saw this strong man completely 
broken down before her, she was stirred by a feel- 
ing of pity. She longed to put her arms around 
his neck and whisper to him with a passionate 
kiss : “ Forgive me, I am myself again, and I give 
myself to you anew. Let us strike these last 
frightful days from our lives, blot out all memory 
of them ; let us think only of how happy we have 
been, and earnestly strive to be happy again.” But 
the thought of the other she could not banish from 
her mind forced itself between her and the man 
before her. She sighed, and said with real com- 
passion, “ Be reasonable, my dear Hugo.” 


248 


HANGING MOSS. 


He looked up at her questioningly ; she could 
not meet his gaze — her eyes fell. 

“ It lies with you,” Hugo answered after a short 
pause, “ to make me as reasonable as lyou could 
wish. Be again what you were to me — what you 
no longer are to me, Leonie ! My feelings do not 
deceive me. Have the courage to rouse your- 
self from the delirium that has seized you ! Do 
not misunderstand me,” he went on more eagerly, 
as he saw that Leonie was biting her lip ; “ I do not 
want to reproach you ! I only want to lead you 
back to the recognition of yourself. And I will 
show you that it is not even necessary to under- 
stand everything in order to pardon everything. I 
will pardon what I do not understand. Never 
shall a word or look remind you of it. I will blot 
it out from my memory. I will convince myself 
that I have been fooled by a treacherous dream, 
and I will love you as passionately, as truly, as 
tenderly as I ever have. I will indeed. And now 
tell me, Leonie, do you still doubt me ?” 

She was now looking at him sharply, with wide- 
open eyes. She was amazed at the way in which 
Hugo had read her secret emotions, had divined her 
unspoken words, and had answered them as she had 
expected he would. Yes, he understood her. And 
she would really leave him, could leave him for 


HANGING MOSS. 


249 


that other ! It seemed incomprehensible ! But he 
would even forgive her what he could not compre- 
hend. He loved her truly, and his love suffered 
long, and was kind — endured all things, hoped all 
things. 

She felt abashed and grateful ; she longed to 
reach him her hand in reconciliation. A certain em- 
barrassment made her hesitate. She would wait 
until Hugo, who surely knew what change was go- 
ing on within her, should take her hand. How she 
longed to give it to him, to passionately return the 
pressure of his hand, and to seal the bond anew 
in a tender embrace ! A glad smile parted Hugo’s 
lips, and, as she had hoped, and as she had known 
it would, his right hand stretched out in search 
of her. 

At that moment John, discreet and expression- 
less as ever, entered the room and handed his 
mistress a card ; then he withdrew and stood at 
the door awaiting his instructions. 

Leonie turned pale. Hugo had immediately 
conjectured who the intruder was. But there was 
no need of conjectures. A hasty glance at the 
absurdly large visiting card sufficed for him to 
read the name “ Ernst Vallini ” conspicuously en- 
graved in heavy Gothic letters. 

Hugo bent down to Leonie and said in an im- 


250 


HANGING MOSS. 


ploring whisper, “ I entreat you not to receive 
him ! ” 

Leonie shrugged her shoulders, glanced quickly 
at John who was staring vacantly before him, then 
gave Hugo an indignant look, and said softly but 
emphatically : “ You are not very judicious ! — Show 
him in ! ” she added aloud in an indifferent tone 
turning towards John. 

John made a hardly perceptible bow and van- 
ished. 

Why ! where are you going?” she asked 
Hugo, who had taken up his hat and approached 
her. 

“ I am going — where, I do not know ! ” 

“You cannot go! Wait ten minutes longer! 
How would it look if you ran away now ? ” 

“ Let me go ! I beg you ! It will be much 
better to,” Hugo said between his teeth. 

“You shall not compromise me."’ 

“ Because I will not compromise you, let me go ! 
I do not know whether I can control myself.” 

“ Remain here ! ” Leonie commanded. 

“ At your own peril ! ” Hugo retorted, his nos- 
trils quivering. 

At this moment Vallini entered, a rose in his 
button-hole, a smile on his face, careless and self- 
satisfied as ever. He bowed before Leonie, kissed 


HANGING MOSS. 


251 


her hand, and after exchanging a slight greeting 
with Hall, said, I hope my gracious and lovely 
patroness will not be vexed with me that yester- 
day—” 

“Your instinct told you rightly,” Leonie inter- 
rupted. “ I could not have received you yester- 
day. I was ill.” 

“A — h !” cried Vallini with painful solicitude, 
as though the news affected him deeply. “You 
were suffering ? ” 

“ Only a little indisposed. It was of no con- 
sequence.” 

“ And to-day ? ” 

“ Thank you ! I feel perfectly well, and in 
good humour besides ! My good friends see to it 
that I don’t get low-spirited,” she added smilingly, 
in the attempt to draw Hugo into the conversation, 
for he was sitting to one side, staring moodily at 
the carpet. 

“Yes, yes! ” Vallini added absently, merely to 
fill up the pause. Hugo remained motionless and 
silent, and continued staring at the bright pattern 
at his feet, and apparently paying no attention to 
the two or to what they were saying. He did not 
notice how Vallini gave him a cursory smile, and 
then turned to Leonie with a meaning look. 

Leonie did not easily lose her self-possession, 


252 


HANGING MOSS. 


but now she felt embarrassed, and in the threaten- 
ing atmosp here which oppressed her she could 
not think of the simplest topic of conversation. 
There came a pause. She heard the low ticking of 
the little clock on her desk. 

“lam almost forced to think,” Vallini began 
after a period of uncomfortable silence, “that I 
have interrupted an interesting conversation here.” 

“ Most certainly not ! ” Leonie answered in a 
sprightly tone. “ Are you surprised at the doc- 
tor’s silence? Ah ! these authors must be judged 
by a different standard from ordinary mortals ! — 
You see, my dear doctor,” she continued, turning 
towards Hugo, “ what misconceptions genius is 
open to. Your absorption had led Signor Vallini 
to believe that he is intruding upon us ! ” 

“ Indeed ! ” drawled Hugo. “ No one has the 
right of deciding the question as to whether any 
one is intruding here but you, the hostess.” 

“ That certainly does not sound very reassur- 
ing!” Vallini answered, with a malicious smile, 
“ But your decision, my dear madame, satisfies me 
perfectly, and I can only agree with you in your 
opinion that authors form a class by themselves — 
the same as we singers.” 

Hugo now raised his head and measured Vallini 
from head to foot. 


HANGING MOSS. 


253 


“ I have never laid any claims to distinction,” 
he answered coldly, although he was boiling with- 
in, “ and I ask no man to make excuses for me on 
account of my profession.” 

The smile had vanished from Vallini’s red lips. 

“ But we are very glad to make them for you,” 
interrupted Leonie, who was endeavouring to avert 
the approaching storm. “But let us change the 
subject ! — And is it true,” turning to Vallini with 
well-feigned vivacity, “ what appeared in the papers 
this morning, that you will open the winter season 
as * Arnold ' in ‘ William Tell | ? I cannot say with 
what pleasure I am looking forward to it. The 
rS/e is exactly suited to you and your glorious 
voice.” 

“ No, I sha’n’t be so bad as * Arnold,’ so people 
say. At any rate, I had a success in that rS/e this 
last season, at St. Petersburg— it was simply stupen- 
dous ! I interpret the r^/e very differently from 
any one else. For me ‘ Arnold ’ is the patriot, the 
son, the lover. Thus I try to represent him in my 
acting and singing,” he added with importance. 

“That is undoubtedly the only correct inter- 
pretation,” Leonie affirmed courteously. It was 
very painful to her that Vallini should talk so 
foolishly, before Hugo of all others. She was al- 
most ashamed, and let her eyes fall as Hugo looked 


254 


HANGING MOSS. 


across at her sarcastically. This silent dialogue 
had not escaped Vallini, and he partially under- 
stood its meaning, for he was comparatively quick- 
witted when his vanity came in question. 

“ Yet, it seems to me,” he said with affected 
hauteur^ “ as though every one were not convinced 
of the correctness of my interpretation. But my 
ambition does not go so far as to satisfy every 
one.” 

He evidently prided himself on this sentence. 

Hugo leaned back and beat a measured tattoo 
on the arms of his chair, as he answered lazily : “ If 
you are alluding to me, I can reassure you. Your 
interpretation of ‘ Arnold ’ seems to me as original 
as it is irreproachable. If kind Providence had 
gifted me with a fine voice, I should also have rep- 
resented II Trovatore as the lover of his lady-love 
and the son of his mother. Perhaps it is not a 
remarkably original conception, but still every one 
would not have thought of it.” 

It took Vallini some moments to grasp the fact 
that Hall was making sport of him, but when he 
did he was furious beyond words, and wholly dis- 
concerted for the moment. Since he had been at 
the height of his fame, now more than three years, 
he had been accustomed to be treated as the hon- 
oured and idolised artist at the theatre, and as the 


HANGING MOSS. 


255 


pampered and privileged favourite in the drawing- 
room. Whenever he had had a disagreeable discus- 
sion behind the scenes with any injured fellow-art- 
ist, he had quickly ended the affair and crushed his 
weaker opponent by some insolent speech, secure 
in his position and his own indispensability. Now 
should he, whom royalty had seen fit to honour, 
allow himself to be ridiculed by this writer, whose 
very name he had never heard until a week before 
— allow himself to be ridiculed before this woman, 
in whose presence he would not appear ridiculous 
for anything in the world ? As he realised the 
situation, he knew how to explain the cause of 
Hugo’s conduct; it was the jealousy of the in- 
jured, the discarded lover, which was endeavouring 
to avenge itself on him, the fortunate rival. Now 
he knew the weapons of defence. 

** I addressed my remarks exclusively to Mrs. 
Welsheim at first,” he said with a forced smile, 
and that evidently did not please you.” 

Hugo started up. 

“ I must request you to leave Mrs. Welsheim 
out of the question,” he said in a suppressed tone, 
but with sharp emphasis. 

But, gentlemen ! ” Leonie interrupted, “I do 
not understand — ” 

“ Pardon me, my dear Mrs. Welsheim,” cried 
17 


256 


HANGING MOSS. 


Vallini, who wholly misunderstood Hugo’s action 
and considered it a retreat. ** I cannot allow this 
gentleman to say in your presence — ” 

“ We can postpone the conversation to any 
other place and to any time it pleases you,” Hugo 
interrupted. 

“ I most certainly should have requested you 
to do so,” answered Vallini, trembling with excite- 
ment. 

‘‘ It would give me great pleasure,” Hugo said, 
“ to comply with your wish immediately.” 

“ And I forbid you to do it ! ” cried Leonie, rais- 
ing her voice — “both of you! It is simply pre- 
posterous. Do you not see to what a rS/e you 
condemn me in your foolish comedy ? Am I not 
particularly exposed to the most insulting calum- 
nies on account of my open friendliness towards 
people who are congenial to me ? Will you open 
the door to scandal, by a foolish quarrel that 
no one can explain ? You understand me! I for- 
bid it ! ” 

This prohibition came at an opportune moment 
for Vallini. He already regretted having gone so 
far, when he noticed how Hugo took him at his 
word. 

“You are right, my dear Mrs. Welsheim,” he 
said in a dignified manner, while he buttoned his 


HANGING MOSS. 


257 


double - breasted coat tightly across his chest. 
“ Forgive me for allowing myself to be carried 
away so far. You demand a sacrifice of me which 
Heaven knows is not easy for me tp make. But 
I know what my duty is as a gentleman, and out 
of regard for you — wholly out of regard for you — ” 
He emphasized this repetition very strongly, and 
threw a threa'ening glance at Hugo, which w'as 
intended less for him than for Leonie. 

“ Oh ! ” interrupted Hugo. “ If you are in ear- 
nest, we can soon find ways and means of putting 
Mrs. Welsheim’s name entirely out of the affair.” 

** I forbid it ! ” Leonie repeated with flashing 
eyes and in a high, shrill voice. ‘‘Did you not 
understand me? Will you not understand me?” 
She was trembling with anger. “I’m done with 
you ! ” she gasped, and then turning to the singer, 
she added in a louder tone : “ But you, my dear 
Signor Vallini — you understand in what an intoler- 
able situation a scandal would place me. I turn 
to you in entreaty. Give me your word that you 
will not accept any challenge from this gentleman, 
either here or anywhere else, or under any pretext 
whatever ? I will esteem you so much the more, 
and I shall know where true chivalry is to be 
found! Give me your word ! ” 

Vallini made a pause — for effect. Leonie’s re- 


HANGING MOSS. 


258 

quest coincided perfectly with his own desires, 
but he considered it proper to portray a severe 
internal struggle, the noble and chivalrous tri- 
umphing in the end. His forehead was drawn up 
into deep wrinkles, his mouth compressed, and he 
gazed gloomily and menacingly before him. Then 
he looked at Leonie. His forehead smoothed, his 
eyes brightened, his lips parted in a gracious smile, 
showing the gleaming white teeth. At first hesi- 
tatingly, then with resolute decision, he stretched 
out his right hand to Leonie, and drawing a deep 
breath he exclaimed : I give you my word. Here 
is my hand ! ” 

Leonie placed her hand in his, and thanked him 
with a fervent look. 

Here was a good opportunity for him to make 
his escape, and the singer lost no time in seizing it. 

You will pardon me if I tear myself away 
now,” he said, taking up his hat. I have fulfilled 
the purpose of my call to-day, which was to excuse 
my non-appearance yesterday, and to make in- 
quiries after your health: I have still some impor- 
tant affairs to attend to. With your kind permis- 
sion I shall try to atone for this short call as soon 
as possible.” 

You are heartily welcome at any time ! Good- 
bye then for the present,” Leonie answered in the 


HANGING MOSS. 


259 

most cordial, friendly way, and gave him her hand 
to kiss. He looked over to where Hugo stood, 
Hugo answered the look, which was intended for 
a salute, in the same manner, Leonie accompanied 
him to the door, and smiled after him till it closed 
behind him. 

Without retracing her steps she turned around. 
Her glance fell upon Hugo, and instantly an al- 
most appalling change took place in her. The 
artificial smile gave way to a look of unconcealed 
anger, of the most violent rage. She had grown 
white. There was something terrible in the pallid 
hue of the face, with the greenish shadows under 
the blazing eyes. Her lips trembled. A swollen 
bluish vein disfigured the beautiful neck. Every- 
thing charming, everything feminine, had van- 
ished, as at the touch of a magician’s wand. It 
was a furious, unlovely woman, a stranger, whom 
Hugo saw before him with uneasy astonishment. 
She was incapable even of a word — her fury 
strangled her. She pressed her trembling lips 
close together, her nostrils dilated and contracted, 
and she nodded her head several times in a hor- 
ribly automatic manner. 

Finally, she went up close to Hugo and panted, 
while her breast rose and fell in violent agitation. 

“ You have done a pretty thing ! I thank you ! — 


26 o 


HANGING MOSS. 


For shame ! ” she burst out, with an expression 
of utter contempt on her face. And as Hugo 
seemed about to make some reply, she cried in a 
hoarse, shrill voice: “Yes, for shame! Bah! — 
You humiliate me before that man, force me to 
beg a favour of him to-day, to show myself grate- 
ful to him to-morrow, to propitiate him at all 
times, from fear that he will tattle as you have 
tattled. To that man, whom nothing can induce 
to hold his tongue, you say as plainly as words 
can tell, ‘ I am this woman’s lover, and I quarrel 
with you because I am jealous of you.' This is 
the way you thank me for all I have done for you ! 
For shame ! Do not try to vindicate yourself ! 
You cannot. Treachery towards the woman once 
loved is the basest crime a man can commit ! A 
thief, a murderer, stands higher, in my opinion, 
than a lover who proclaims his secret, her secret, 
from the house-tops ! And that is what you have 
done! You — you, to whom I have given every- 
thing ! ” 

“ In order to take everything away from me 
in a brutal caprice ! " Hugo now interrupted. 
Leonie’s invectives had made absolutely no 
impression upon him. He had listened to her 
as though he were an uninterested person — as 
though she had nothing to do with him. This 


HANGING MOSS. 


261 


shrill-voiced woman was a stranger to him. He 
had never heard this voice, never seen this 
Megara-like face. Gradually things grew clear 
to him. Had he really loved this raging fury — 
but a moment before ? Could this be his Leonie, 
whom he had always worshipped and looked up 
to ? With whom he had wandered happily through 
the forests on the Wann See, planning and com- 
posing ? He felt as though he had been violently 
seized by rough hands and shaken from a sweet, 
deluding dream to hateful reality. 

This then was the true Leonie who now stood 
shrieking before him in her unconcealed unloveli- 
ness; whom fury had stripped of all the glamour 
of womanly charm and tenderness. The Leonie 
whom he had loved so truly, so fervently, so 
passionately until this moment, was a creation of 
his own, wliich the harsh breath of reality had 
destroyed. 

“ You have given me everything, and you have 
taken everything from me ! " continued Hugo, 
who had finally collected himself — “ taken with- 
out reason — just because it pleased you. And 
you have taken more from me, much more, than 
you could ever give me ! And when you torture 
me to the verge of madness you wonder that I 
lose my senses, and so far forget myself as to 


262 


HANGING MOSS. 


vent my anger on a miserable creature like this 
Vallini. It is not that which has compromised 
you ! Make your mind easy on that score ! You 
and you alone have compromised yourself ! It is 
not the blustering, jealous fool that speaks in me, 
it is one who speaks from knowledge ! And if 
you should swear by all that you hold sacred to 
the contrary, I would not believe you ! You are 
Vallini’s mistress, or, if you are not as yet, you 
will be ! And that is your destruction ! I admit 
that Vallini is a much more comfortable person 
than I am. He does not take you so seriously. 
He will never allow himself to be carried away by 
any passionate imprudence. For him, you are 
nothing more than another feather in his cap ! 
He has destroyed you, the knave ! He drags you 
from the noble down to the low, from that love 
which, if culpable according to our institutions, 
always has something noble in it, down to the sen- 
sual, which is always vulgar ; he makes a wanton 
of the woman he loves! You throw me aside! 
It is well ! For in this last hour it has become a 
horrible certainty to me that from now on there 
can be nothing in common between us ! It is not 
necessary for you to drive me away ! Of my own 
free will you shall never see me again ! You need 
not trouble yourself about what will become of 


HANGING MOSS. 


263 


me. And I do not know myself. But what will 
become of you, if you do not rouse yourself with 
a moral effort, of which I do not hold you capable 
any longer — what will become of you, Vallini’s 
mistress ? I will tell you ; ‘ You begin with one in 
secret ! ’ You understand me ! ” 

Leonie gasped and trembled as she listened to 
him, her face distorted in a dreadful smile. Her 
glance wandered over the room and rested on the 
door. As she was about to open her lips, Hugo 
seized his hat, and saying, “ And I understand 
you also ! ” hastily left the room, without a word of 
farewell, without once turning around. 

While John was helping him into his over- 
coat, that keen-eyed servant whispered dejectedly, 
“ What is to be done with the bronze which my 
master intends for the doctor ? ” 

“ You will receive orders later,” answered Hugo, 
and went out into the hall. He was very much 
excited. The fresh air of the Thiergarten did him 
good. He sat down on a bench beside a nurse, 
and smilingly watched a chubby, red-cheeked in- 
fant, who was sleeping in her arms. The nurse 
seemed flattered by the attention paid to her 
charge, and held the child so that the strange gen- 
tleman could see it better. 


CHAPTER XVI. 


He must leave Berlin ; go to some place where 
nothing would remind him of these last days. He 
knew that here he would never escape from the 
frightful impression this woman, whom he had once 
loved, had made upon him. Any chance meeting 
with her or with Vallini, who was to be seen every- 
where, would bring the whole terrible scene before 
him again. Therefore he must leave Berlin ! 

There was nothing to keep him here any longer. 
Everything that he had prized before now filled 
him with disgust. Involuntarily he put his hand 
to his breast-pocket. He was rich ! It was strange 
that he could have forgotten that for a moment! 
that he could think of nothing but of Leonie ; 
could see nothing before him but that suddenly 
distorted face and those small, flashing eyes that 
all at once had looked at him so unlovingly, so 
angrily, so spitefully ; could hear nothing but that 
hoarse, piercing voice. Why should he not leave 
Berlin — for the south, for which he longed so 


HANGING MO&S. 265 

ardently just now as he sat watching the fiery 
brilliancy of the setting sun ? 

The south ! How much good it would do her, 
poor, sick Martha, to whom the rough breath of the 
north was so fatal ! She had so often spoken of a 
journey to Italy as a beautiful dream of the future, 
scarcely to be realised ! And now he could have 
made this dream a reality, could have redeemed 
the promises which had won him the loving ten- 
derness, the touching surrender of the confiding 
girl ; he could have roamed over the mild shores of 
Lake Geneva, or over sunny upper Italy, or the 
Riviera, with his young wife, awakened to new life 
by the healing power of happiness — if he had not 
deceived and deluded her — for Leonie ! 

And beside the ghastly, distorted face of the 
enraged woman there now arose the picture of the 
noble girl with gentle blue eyes, whom he once 
thought he loved, and whom he had so deeply in- 
jured, and by the side of the fierce, unnatural Le- 
onie, the patient, uncomplaining Martha, in her 
maidenly modesty and chaste purity, appeared to 
him like a glorified saint. While Leonie’s face 
rose before him out of the darkness of night, 
Martha's pathetic features appeared against a shim- 
mering background of gold, and a radiant halo 
seemed to pls^y about the wonderful mass of golden 


266 HANGING MOSS. 

hair. The echo of the shrill voice, that had gone 
through and through him, still rang in his ears. 
But Martha was silent. She had never spoken 
much. She had parted from him without a word 
of reproach. But, in the glance which he felt 
turned upon him, lay a terrible, secret accusation. 

He could not leave her in this way ! He must 
see her once more, must pray for her forgiveness, 
and even if she could not forgive him, it would at 
least be a consolation to know that she realised 
the genuineness of his repentance, and knew of the 
just and terrible retribution which had fallen upon 
him. He must see her once more! — only once 
more! — that was all that kept him here; his be- 
longings were packed, any trivial matters that still 
needed attention he could settle in an hour, and 
that very night he could be rolling towards the 
south. 

Once more he stood before the old house in 
the Briider Strasse. His heart was beating vio- 
lently. He looked about him timidly to see if any 
one were watching him, as though he were about 
to commit some crime. No one saw him. The 
driver of the carriage that stood before the door 
had fallen asleep. He stole up the narrow, well- 
known stairs like a thief who feared to be detected 
in the act. He remained standing irresolutely be- 


HANGING MOSS. 


267 

fore the glass door with its cheap curtains. He 
heard sounds on the other side. He held his 
breath and listened. They were voices, carrying 
on a conversation in a subdued tone — one a 
woman’s, the other a man’s. 

Hugo knocked on the pane, at first softly, then 
more loudly. The door was cautiously opened. 

“ For God’s sake ! ” exclaimed the widow in a 
loud voice. She had forgotten herself for a mo- 
ment, when she unexpectedly saw Hugo before 
her — the expression of surprise on her severe face 
soon gave place to the direst dismay. 

“ What do you want here ?” 

“ I must see her.” 

** Softly, I implore you ! ” 

** Only let me see her once — once for the last 
time! I will leave Berlin to-day, and nothing shall 
recall me to your mind if you desire it. But what 
has happened?” he continued, in deadly anxiety, 
as he caught sight of Dr. Lohausen’s grave face. 
Is Martha seriously ill ?” 

“ Come in, first of all,” said the doctor in a low 
voice ; we cannot settle it here on the threshold ! ” 

He had opened the door of the front room, 
while the widow closed the hall door with anxious 
care. The three noiselessly entered the room in 
which Hugo had lived so many years. How cold 


268 


HANGING MOSS. 


and bare it seemed to him now — ^^without his books, 
without his writing materials, without any of the 
trifles which had filled it, warmed it, and given it 
individual life ! 

As softly as they tiptoed past the sitting-room 
where Martha had been since the day before, noth- 
ing had escaped the sick girl, whose senses were 
rendered particularly keen by her feverish, excited 
state. She thought she heard Hugo’s voice, and 
she was not surprised at it. She had counted v/ith 
absolute certainty upon his coming. With a great 
effort she raised herself a little in bed and listened, 
her head bent forward, and supporting herself on 
her elbows. At first she heard an inarticulate mur- 
mur, then the creaking of Hugo’s door — then all 
was still. But she still listened with strained atten- 
tion, although she could hear nothing but the wheez- 
ing, rattling sound of her own laboured breathing. 

“ My poor young friend ! ” said Lohausen, 
sympathetically, “ I understand your desire, I 
know how anxious you are, and I would gladly 
help you. I should also earnestly advise Mrs. 
Breuer to overlook everything — if it were other- 
wise; but — now it will not do.” 

“ Doctor ! ” cried Hugo with deep emotion. 

Yes, I am very sorry for you,” answered the 
doctor earnestly. But it simply won’t do. It is 


HANGING MOSS. 


269 

not a question of a deserted girl or of a repentant 
sinner, it is simply the question of a very sick girl 
to whom any excitement might be fatal. So be 
reasonable ! There is no use. I must refuse you. 
It is my duty ! Come, I will drive you anywhere 
you wish. When Martha is better, you shall know 
it immediately ; and then — we shall see, we shall 
see. But now, come ! ” 

The doctor had laid his hand on Hugo’s shoul- 
der, and was leading the unnerved man to the door, 
when the sharp, impatient ringing of a small bell 
sounded from the sitting-room. The widow paled, 
and even the doctor stopped in surprise. 

“ Hallo ! ” he muttered to himself, “ what does 
that mean ? ” 

“ Won’t they ever stop talking ! ” Martha had 
thought, as she lay supporting herself with the 
greatest difficulty on her elbows, half lying, half 
sitting in bed, and finally shaking her head im- 
patiently. 

She wanted to be sure. She became more and 
more agitated and uneasy. There was a terrible 
weight on her breast ; each gasping, rattling breath 
that she drew was pain to her, and, in addition, 
there was that unbearable tickling in the throat 
which at short intervals brought forth a hard, dry 
cough. 


2/0 


HANGING MOSS. 


And they were talking away in there ; and no 
one troubled himself about her ! They ought not 
to leave her alone ! They ought to come to her — 
mamma and the doctor — all of them ! Even her 
lover, who had been untrue to her ! 

She felt the strength leaving her, and knew that 
she would fall back on the pillows the next mo- 
ment. She gathered herself together once more, 
seized the bell which stood near her, and rang it 
with angry and impatient energy. 

The alarmed mother and the doctor appeared 
immediately in the doorway. 

** What is the matter, my child } ” asked the 
widow, who had rapidly stepped to the bed. 

“ You should not leave me alone for hours at a 
time ! ” gasped Martha indignantly, and almost in 
tears. 

Why, scarcely five minutes have passed, 
dear heart,” said her mother, trying to soothe 
her. 

‘‘And you ought not to keep him from me ! I 
want to see him ! ” 

“ My dear Martha,” now broke in the doctor, 
“ you know you promised me to be good and to 
keep quiet.” 

“Oh, leave me alone!” burst out Martha. 
“ Always keep quiet ! And always keep quiet ! 


HANGING MOSS. 


271 

It is all very well for you to talk ! I can’t keep 
quiet. I am burning here ! ” She placed her hand 
on her labouring breast, and a violent paroxysm 
of coughing interrupted her words. 

‘‘I implore you, child, control yourself! lie 
quite still for just a few moments. Please do, my 
dear, good child ! ’’ 

“ I can’t ! ” gasped Martha, raising herself 
again by exerting all her strength. I can’t bear 
it.” The doctor supported her. “ Ah ! ” she sighed, 
somewhat relieved, “ thank you, doctor ! ” She 
raised her thin, transparent hand again to her 
breast. “ I don’t know what is the matter with 
me, I have such a warm feeling here ! ” Then 
with another burst of impatience she cried in a 
clearer tone : “ I will see him ! If you don’t want 
to torment me, call him ; or I will jump out of 
bed and go to him myself ! — I mean it ! ” And still 
clearer, still louder, she called : Hugo ! ” Then 
she sank back on the bed and whispered almost 
inaudibly, How it burns ! ” 

The door had opened softly, and Hugo’s 
blanched face appeared. He looked at the mother 
in questioning entreaty. The widow and the doctor 
had exchanged a rapid glance. Lohausen shrugged 
his shoulders, as much as to say : “ It cannot ex- 
cite her more than she is now, the meeting can 
18 


HANGING MOSS. 


272 

scarcely harm her, she demands it, what is the use 
of denying her ? ” 

The widow nodded to Hugo to enter. He care- 
fully closed the door. Martha did not hear him; 
her cough was louder and more violent. She now 
felt in her mouth, when she coughed, that peculiar 
warmth that was creeping up within her. With 
closed eyes she felt for her handkerchief and 
raised it to her lips. When she took it away in 
her clenched hand it was flecked with bright-red 
spots. 

In visible consternation Lohausen bent over 
the hand which clenched the handkerchief and 
examined the sinister spots. Then he turned to 
Hugo with a meaning look, giving him to under- 
stand that he must leave the room as soon as pos- 
sible. 

Hugo restrained his feelings, and was about to 
obey the doctor’s orders, when Martha opened her 
eyes. 

She smiled when she saw Hugo, and slowly 
lowered her lids in greeting. Hugo remained 
standing irresolute. 

“ I knew that you would come,” she said softly. 

I knew you at once, by your voice ! — See, doctor, 
now I am quiet — and quite good.” 

She smiled again and looked tenderly at Hugo, 


HANGING MOSS. 


273 


then she raised her hand a little to give it to her 
lover. The blood-stained handkerchief lay on the 
bed. 

Hugo had silently sunk on his knees beside the 
bed ; and although a sharp pain was cutting him 
to the heart, he made an effort to smile, and lifted 
her small, hot hand to his burning lips. 

“ Can you forgive me, Martha ? ” he asked re- 
morsefully. 

“With my whole heart,” she answered softly 
but distinctly. 

“ I will atone for everything ! ” said Hugo in a 
low voice, and covering the small hand with fer- 
vent kisses. “And now you may trust me, dear 
Martha. I shall never leave you again ! And 
when you get well, we will go together — ” 

He broke off suddenly. Martha had wrenched 
her hand away from him with a surprising strength, 
and suddenly raised herself upright in bed. A vio- 
lent paroxysm of coughing racked the slight frame, 
while the doctor, who had sprung to the bedside, 
supported the struggling girl. She tried to speak, 
but was prevented by the terrible, continuous 
cough ; she pointed to her left side, and moved 
her hand several times from her heart to her 
throat. The drops stood out on her forehead. A 
dreadful light came into the distended eyes, and 


274 


HANGING MOSS. 


suddenly a bright stream of blood burst from her 
mouth and she fell back exhausted on the pillows. 

Fear and horror had seized the three who stood 
by the bed. 

The doctor rubbed the sick girl’s forehead and 
temples with cologne, and this seemed to afford 
her a moment’s relief. He gave her water mixed 
with vinegar, which the mother had brought at his 
order. Martha drank it eagerly, and gave him a 
grateful nod. Lohausen put his ear to her chest, 
and the muttering, gurgling sound he heard con- 
firmed his worst suspicions. 

After a few moments Martha grew restless 
again, her feeble motions betrayed her uneasiness, 
and her forehead was contracted in a frown. She 
struck the coverlid several times with her hand. 

It is so warm,” she said, “ so horribly w — ! ” 
She could not finish the word, for a second and 
still more violent haemorrhage followed. 

Then she smiled once more and closed her 
eyes. In a moment she opened them again and 
looked up gratefully at the doctor, who was bend- 
ing over her. She turned to her mother with a 
look of infinite love and tenderness. Then she 
looked for Hugo. He stood directly before her. 
How was it that she had not seen him ! It had 
become so strangely dark around her all at once ! 


HANGING MOSS. 


275 


But she could still recognise him in the darkness, 
could smile at him, could return the soft pressure 
of the hand that held hers so gently. 

Together!” came like a sigh from her lips. 
She lingered over the last word that Hugo had 
spoken to her. 

It grew still darker around her. The blackest 
night seemed to have fallen, and still it could not 
be so late. She closed her eyes — she was so very 
tired. 

Her face had taken on a bluish tinge. She now 
lay there motionless. Once only she made a hasty 
movement with her arms, as though she were 
struggling for air. But this agony lasted but a 
moment. Her peaceful, almost smiling expression 
proclaimed perfect freedom from pain. Once 
again the beautiful blue eyes opened. Now all 
was bright and sunny again, though only for a 
moment. But that was long enough for her to 
smile tenderly once more at the loved ones who 
stood near her. Now she closed her eyes, happy 
and content, her head sank back among the pil- 
lows, and she gave a soft, lingering sigh. 

Her struggle was ended, she had died in peace. 

The western sky flamed deep red in the light 
of the dying October sun, and the dull, golden re- 
flection fell through the window upon Martha’s 


276 


HANGING MOSS. 


bed, and covered the outstretched form in a won- 
derful radiance. 

As the evening glow faded, a look of horror 
crept over Hugo’s pallid face and the drawn feat- 
ures of the mother, who had resumed her stern,, 
rigid air. The doctor had just parted from them, 
with tears in his eyes, leaving them standing hand 
in hand by the bed. 

But the expression on the pale face was so 
blissful, so peaceful, so perfectly resigned, that the 
two who stood with clasped hands by the body 
soon overcame the feeling of horror, and looked 
with deep grief and gentle sadness at the trans- 
figured face of the sleeping girl. 


CHAPTER XVII. 


On the following Tuesday, about eleven o’clock, 
Welsheim stepped into the small room where Le- 
onie was in the habit of breakfasting, to take leave 
of her before going to his office. He found her 
as usual in a light morning gown, drinking her 
chocolate, and lost in the perusal of theatrical no- 
tices and society announcements. 

“ What in the deuce does this mean ? ” he ex- 
claimed. in his noisy way, which Leonie had given 
up trying to subdue. “ This Lohausen sends back 
the money — with a few trifling words of thanks — 
no more need for it. You know : the money that 
I gave him to send the little one to Italy. Well, 
I haven’t any feeling about it — but I don’t under- 
stand it ! Do you ? ” 

He handed his wife Lohausen’s note and the 
bills. 

“ I don’t want to enrich myself ! ” he added 
jovially. “ Get yourself something pretty with 


HANGING MOSS. 


278 

“ Thank you ! ” answered Leonie gravely, with- 
out taking the tendered notes. “ I don’t care 
to!” 

Here was another surprise ! 

Welsheim let himself drop on the low settee be- 
side' his wife. Without a word she handed him the 
paper which she had just been reading, and pointed 
to a black-bordered notice. 

“Ah, indeed!” said Welsheim, when he had 
read it. He, too, had become grave. 

“ So we came too late,” he continued, after a 
lengthy pause. “ I am very sorry ! She was really 
a very pretty girl ! Well, we are all mortal, are we 
not ? But I am sorry ! And Hugo — Dr. Hall,” he 
corrected himself, “ I am also very sorry for him, 
although he does not deserve it from us ! — but 
that is the way with me ! I can’t bear malice ! 
And even if he has been rude to you, still I’m 
sorry for him ! God knows I'm sorry for him ! 
I should not care to be in his shoes ! ” 

Meanwhile he had thrust the bank-notes into 
his pocket-book, and carefully creased Lohausen’s 
letter with his thumb-nail. 

“What are you thinking about?” asked Felix. 
“ You don’t say a word ! People generally say 
something in such cases.” 

“ But I have nothing to say,” answered Leonie 


HANGING MOSS. 


279 

slowly. “ It is always very sad ’’—she sipped her 
chocolate — “ when a poor young girl dies ! ” 

“ That is what I think ! Very sad ! ” 

“ That is the only thing that affects me. As 
far as Dr. Hall is concerned, I have already re- 
quested you, and for very good reasons as you 
should know, to drop his name from our conver- 
sation, as I have been obliged to drop its bearer 
from our acquaintance.” 

“ Yes, yes ; quite right ! I only meant — ” 
“And this request,” continued Leonie in the 
same tone, without paying any attention to Wels- 
heim’s remark, is perfectly justifiable. Do not 
force me to repeat it, do not force me to give a 
still stronger reason by laying bare the whole 
truth. You are always so quick to understand ! 
What I have said to you should suffice ! ” 

“ Perfectly, perfectly, my dear Leonie ! ” ex- 
claimed Felix, with a comical gesture of self- 
defence. “ I never want to hear anything more 
of the matter ! I have already heard more than I 
care to ! It is scandalous that he should have 
thanked us so for all our kindness ! Who would 
have thought it of the doctor ? Disrespectful to 
you ! It is incredible. He ought to have known 
you better ! His success must have gone to his 
head ! It is unheard of ! When I meet him he 


28 o 


HANGING MOSS. 


shall be nothing but air to me, nothing more ! I 
don’t know him any longer ! I know what I owe 
to you, to myself, and to the honour of my house ! 
Air ! Nothing more ! But still I’m sorry for him. 
That is the way with me — Good Lord ! it’s a 
quarter of twelve ! — My time is up ! Good- 
bye ! ” 

He kissed Leonie’s forehead and went hastily 
towards the door; then he suddenly stopped. 
“ Shall we send the widow a wreath ? ” 

Leonie looked up impatiently. 

Just as you please,” continued Welsheim, who 
had already put on his hat ; “ I only thought — the 
young girl was with us once — do you remember ? 
at the Reichshalle ? And 1 thought — but if you 
think differently — I agree with you — The poor 
young thing ! And the poor mother — Ah ! well, 
then, good-bye ! My time is up ! ” 

Leonie slowly finished her chocolate, and re- 
sumed her interrupted reading of the morning 
paper, as usual. 

At the same moment a simple coffin was being 
lowered into the ground. Three mourners only 
stood around the grave. But these three sorrowed 
truly. 


CHAPTER XVIII. 

1891. 

In the first half of the year 1891 I took a zig- 
zag journey through the United States — from the 
Atlantic to the Pacific, and from the borders of 
Canada to the Gulf of Mexico. 

I accepted the invitation of my friend Mr. 
Henry Villard, the President of the Northern Pa- 
cific Railroad. My American host placed a pri- 
vate car at our disposal during the whole of our 
journey — a regular hotel on wheels, with drawing- 
room, dining-room, sleeping-xooms, kitchen, etc. 
— and which bore us safely for five months from 
North to South, and from East to West. We soon 
fled from the snow and cold of New York, and, 
although it was early in February, found sunny 
skies and warm summer days in Florida. On the 
way from St. Augustine to New Orleans our car 
met with a trifling accident, which we should never 
have noticed had not the conductor of the train 
to which we were attached declared, with that 


282 


HANGING MOSS. 


Stony decision in the face of which all opposition 
must give way, that he could not allow our car to 
go on in this damaged condition, but must detach 
us at the next station and have us side-tracked. 
He would send some men from the first large sta- 
tion to repair the damage, and I could continue 
my journey to New Orleans the next day on the 
same train, with a loss of twenty-four hours. 
“ Good-bye, sir.’* 

And so it came to pass. 

Cypress was the name of the station, and I am 
in doubt to this day as to its purpose and end. 
For nowhere were to be seen either towns or vil- 
lages, hamlets, or even isolated farms ; outside of 
a few wretched negro huts, which lay at consider- 
able distances from each other, and seemed for the 
most part deserted, I had seen no trace for hours 
of any human habitation, with the exception of 
the railroad station. 

The scenery in the north of Florida traversed 
by the railroad impressed me by its sublime ugli- 
ness and inhospitality. Nothing but stumps, with 
yellowish, muddy water, out of which grew yellow 
or dull-green vegetation ; the woods in dreadful 
condition, for the most part sickly firs and pines 
rising out of impenetrable masses of stunted 
underbrush, and everything as far as the eye could 


HANGING MOSS. 


283 

reach destroyed by the ruthless forest incen- 
diaries. Charred trunks, standing or fallen, the 
smoke-blackened limbs robbed of all adornment, 
stretching out like stiffened bones — tree corpses 
everywhere, yellow ground, morass, weeds, and 
foul-smelling water. 

This was the country through which we had 
been travelling for many long hours. And the 
place christened Cypress differed in no way from 
its melancholy surroundings. Here we were forced 
to spend twenty-four hours against our will — and 
it was yet early. It was something like ten in the 
morning when we were made stationary at Cypress. 

While my children were playing in the plank 
shed which did duty as a station, I had been tak- 
ing a little survey, without the slightest result. I 
could not distinguish a single hut, no living being, 
not even the trace of a road. For a whole hour I 
wandered in the wilderness under the charred 
boughs, often sinking to my ankles in the yielding, 
swampy ground. There was nothing left forme 
to do but to return to the car and to change my 
soaked shoes. Then I tried to settle down to 
work, although I had little desire for it, for the 
weather was wonderful, warm without being hot, 
and under the immeasurably high arch of the deep 
blue heavens sailed the powerful hawks in stately 


284 


HANGING MOSS. 


flight, without a motion of the wings, now rising, 
now falling. And it happened as I had foreseen. 
When I had changed my shoes, and had seated my- 
self at the desk, the close, heavy air of the car be- 
came insupportable, and I climbed down to set out 
on another exploring expedition. 

Before the railway shed stood the station- 
master, a young man of some five and twenty 
years, of fair complexion, gaunt, with prominent 
cheek-bones and a powerful chin. He seemed to 
be taking a lively interest in my children’s up- 
roarious play. I approached him and began, by 
way of conversation : 

“ It does not seem to be overwhelmingly gay 
here in Cypress. Are you all alone here ? ” 

“ There’s a few gentlemen here who works on 
the road — not many. And farther west, to Mari- 
ana, there’s a few colored gentlemen. Tallahassee 
ain’t far off, and Tallahassee’s something of a place 
— just booming.” 

“ But are you all alone here in Cypress with 
your companions who work on the road ? ” 

“ Just about. Some two miles from here, north- 
west, there’s a log hut in the woods. ‘ The Ger- 
man ’ lives there.” 

The German ? ” I repeated in surprise. “ How 
does he come here ? ” 


HANGING MOSS. 


285 


Can’t tell you. He’s been a long time in the 
country, and is the first settler hereabouts. It’s 
some twenty years since he built his hut here. 
Don’t even know his name. The man who was 
here before me called him the German, and so we 
call him that too.” 

“And what does he do in this wilderness ?” 

“ Shoots alligators.” 

“But one can’t live on alligators.” 

“Well, he has all he needs. I just told you he 
came to the country a long while ago. He bought 
land in Jacksonville at the right time, and sold 
out at a big profit. He has a pile in the bank 
at Jacksonville. All he needs, and more, too.” 

This mysterious man interested me. Now I 
had an aim for my expedition. 

“Where is the German to be found?” I asked. 

“You can’t go wrong. Do you see there — 
where the forest fire ends and the thick cypress 
wood begins — do you see there between those 
two tall trees ? ” 

“ Yes.” 

“Go straight there. Keep those trees before 
you; about a hundred paces to the right of the 
highest, at the very edge of the wood, you will 
strike a road, or rather a clearing. There the 
trunks are cut down, not burned down. You take 


286 


HANGING MOSS. 


the road and it will lead you to the German’s in 
five minutes. Years ago the hut was in the mid- 
dle of the woods, and how the German ever got 
his supplies I don’t know. But now the railroad 
has burned down half the woods and made things 
comfortable for him. We can have fresh meat 
every day. But the German lives mostly on 
canned goods— queer habit— Well, straight to 
the two cypress trees, then to the right till you 
reach the clearing — that’s the way ! ” 

I took leave of him with hearty thanks. The 
expedition at this hottest hour of the day was 
more difficult than I had expected. My way was 
often obstructed by a wall of scrubby underbrush. 
I stumbled more than once over the charred 
trunks of fallen trees, and then I sank deep into 
the swampy ground ; but, finally, I came upon the 
clearing, and in a few moments reached the Ger- 
man’s hut, constructed of age-blackened logs. 

Luck was with me. The German sat on the 
doorstep, smoking. 

At the first glance I realised that I had done 
my countryman an injustice in supposing, from his 
choice of a home in this inhospitable country, as I 
had seen it from the railroad, that he must be de- 
void of any taste for the beauties of Nature. 
Having once overcome the difficulties of the road. 


HANGING MOSS. 28 / 

one had to admit that this forsaken spot of earth 
possessed a remarkable majesty and grandeur. 

In front of the hut the German had cleared an 
open space. The trees were felled ; near by the 
ground was cultivated. All around rose the mighty 
cypress trees to a colossal height, beside the ever- 
green giant oaks. Evergreen! The noble trees 
here bore this name unjustly. Of the soft green 
of the oak leaves there was as little to be seen as 
of the dismal darker tint of the cypress trees. All 
these tree giants were hung with long, floating, 
wondrous veils of grey, and this beautiful, fan- 
tastic drapery transformed the entire forest into a 
mighty funeral procession following the coffin of 
desecrated Nature. It seemed as though the trees 
spared from the ravages of fire were sorrowing 
for their brothers, victims to man’s brutality. 

On every branch the moss had hung itself in 
long strands, here called Southern moss — Tilland- 
sia usneoides is the botanical name — a moss pe- 
culiar to the Southern States and Mexico. 

The tangled, dull, reseda grey-green moss which 
could ravage here undisturbed, had acquired such 
a luxuriance and thickness of growth that its grey 
tufts, which seemed to unite and intertwine in a 
mighty shroud, sucked the life of the trees, rob- 
bing them of light and air, until they were finally 
19 


288 


HANGING MOSS. 


destroyed. So it was the dead which buried the 
dead. 

But what a noble, impressive scene it was — 
these stately trees, these gnarled branches and 
boughs all alike veiled in grey ! And now a light 
breeze sprang up, setting the wonderful, float- 
ing mantle in noiseless, slow, swaying motion, so 
that at the first glance the illusion that the forest 
was advancing in stately, solemn march was per- 
fect. And over the grey-veiled tops of the trees 
soared a hawk in the immeasurable blue of the 
heavens, balancing itself on its motionless, out- 
stretched wings. I was so impressed by the singu- 
lar beauty of this solitude in the wilderness that I 
paused for a moment to gaze in rapt admiration at 
the moss-shrouded trees, and the sky above, blue 
as the corn-flower’s petals. 

During my difficult walk I had troubled my- 
self but little about my surroundings, and only 
now that an open space lay before me, could I 
grasp the full beauty of this wonderful Nature. 

Now at last I looked over at my German, who 
on his side was gazing at me with apparent calm 
and without any particular interest, at all events 
without surprise. He did not rise from the step, 
neither did he remove the short pipe from his 
mouth. 


HANGING MOSS. 


289 


I Stepped towards him. 

Are you the German?” I asked him in out 
native tongue. 

“ Yes,” he answered ; “ sit down.” He held out 
his hand and moved along a little so that I could 
sit down comfortably beside him. 

I now looked more closely at my countryman. 
He seemed to be an old man. He looked nearer 
seventy than sixty. • One could easily see that in 
his younger days he might have been dangerous 
to women. He was still handsome, perhaps even 
handsomer than in his earlier youth. The blows 
of Fortune had left their impress upon him. The 
features of the weather-beaten, deeply furrowed 
face were hard and stern ; the broad-brimmed 
grey slouch hat, pushed back on the head, only 
half covered the baldness. The head was almost 
destitute of hair. All the heavier was the grey, 
white-streaked beard which reached to his breast. 
The profile was nobly cut. The large eyes had a 
quiet expression of steady gravity. The man wore 
neither coat nor waistcoat. Around the collar of 
the blue w'oollen shirt a handkerchief was loosely 
tied. The dust-coloured corduroy trousers were 
thrust into the tops of his high, thick-soled boots. 
Out of his right hip pocket protruded the shining 
metal head of a revolver. 


290 


HANGING MOSS. 


“ You have not the ugliest spot on earth for 
your home,” I began, “ I must say that. It is 
really wonderful here.” 

“ Yes, yes ; it is very pretty.” 

“But it seems to me a little lonely for any 
length of time.” 

“Oh yes, yes, yes! It is lonely, that is true.” 

“ You have been here a long time, so they tell 
me?” 

“Yes, yes, very long.” 

■“ But I suppose you have travelled a great deal ?” 

“ Travelled ? Ah, no ! Sometimes I go to 
Jacksonville — once a year, or perhaps not so 
often. But I only stay a few days, until I have 
finished my business, and then I come back here.” 

“ Yes, but what do you do all day, if I may ask ? 
Pardon my curiosity, but you are the first hermit I 
have ever met.” 

“ What do I do ? I think of many things and 
digest them.” 

“ And you scarcely ever see a soul ? ” 

“ Scarcely ever. There is not a man here. 
There is no associating with that stupid Bennett at 
the station — the half-grown fellow who probably 
showed you the way here. I have no need of 
men’s society. I have had enough of men.” 

I looked at the strange man in surprise. How 


HANGING MOSS. 


291 


Fortune must have misused him, to foster such a 
love of solitude in him ! I dared not question him 
further. We were silent awhile. We looked up 
at the tall branches, and at the slowly and noise- 
lessly swaying veil of hanging moss. 

Finally, he asked me how I came to stop at 
Cypress. Except he, scarcely any man in his 
senses had ever made use of the station. I told 
him the cause of my unwilling detention. 

“You are a North German, judging from your 
accent. Where are you from ? ” 

“ Berlin — ” 

“ Ah ! yes, yes, yes ! I thought so at once. 
Berlin ! A fine city,” he added, and for the first 
time the rigid sternness of his face relaxed a little, 
and a scarcely perceptible smile played around the 
corners of his mouth. 

“ You know Berlin ? ” 

“Yes, yes, I know it. I used to live there, 
years ago. Eighteen years ngo, I think yes, 
eighteen years ago.” 

“ It has changed much since then. Fine new 
quarters have been built up, and strangers find the 
city very beautiful with its broad streets and fine 
houses.” 

“ Yes, yes ! I can easily believe it. Fine 
houses! But sometimes the ugliest birds sit in 


292 


HANGING MOSS. 


gold cages. So you live in Berlin ! Yes, yes, 
it is a long time since I have spoken to a Berlin 
man. It must be nearly eighteen years. Did you 
live in Berlin eighteen years ago ? ” 

“Yes, indeed.” 

“ Ah, yes ; then we must have acquaintances in 
common.” 

“ In all probability. And if you are particu- 
larly interested in any one, please ask me. I will 
gladly give you any information that I can.” 

“ Particularly interested ? No ! I am inter- 
ested in no one in particular. No, no more. Not 
for many long years. Does that seem strange to 
you ? I have sought solitude because nothing 
attracted me, nothing pleased me — because I no 
longer wished to know more of men. You know 
the story of the little girl who was given a beauti- 
ful doll for a Christmas present, and who threw 
the toy into the fire the next day. ‘Why did you 
do that ? ’ asked the mother. The child answered, 
‘ I told my doll that I loved her, and she did not 
answer me.’ Something of the same sort has hap- 
pened to me.” 

“And you’re contented in your withdrawal 
from the world ? ” 

“ I am without a wish. I have scarcely a real 
pleasure, but neither have I pain.” 


HANGING MOSS. 


293 


“To tell the truth, I do not envy you.” 

“ I am not to be envied, and yet neither am I 
to be pitied. I have all I need, and I live just as 
I please.” 

He rose. “ Will you take a glass with me ? 
Then come in.” But little light entered the in- 
terior of the log hut through the small glazed 
aperture that served as a window and through 
the open door. In contrast with the brightness 
of the glorious afternoon, the room seemed so 
dark that at first I could only distinguish the 
roughly constructed table in the middle of the 
room and the stool beside it, which were in 
the direct stream of sunshine from the open 
door. 

Gradually my eyes grew accustomed to the 
gloom, and I now saw in one corner on the left 
an open fireplace ; near it, on the floor, a pyramid 
of tin cans and a battery of bottles. In the other 
left-hand corner was a pile of oranges, whose 
strong aroma filled the room to an overpowering 
degree. Into the beams opposite the door strong 
hooks were driven, from which hung guns and 
rifle-barrels of various kinds. On the shelf by the 
window I had already seen the box of ammunition. 
In addition there stood against the rough, uncov- 
ered logs which formed the walls, or lay on the 


294 


HANGING MOSS. 


bare floor, implements of all kinds — a heavy axe, 
smaller hatchets, saws, hammers, etc., and a few 
piecesof crockery. 

While the German thoughtfully and gravely 
mixed the beverage from various bottles, and 
added the finishing touch by squeezing in a few 
drops of orange juice, I asked him: 

“ But where is your bed ? ” 

Without looking around or pausing in his prep- 
arations, he answered, “Just at the right of the 
door.” 

Sure enough, there, in the darkest corner of 
the room, lay on the ground, about a foot in 
height, a pile of the grey tangled moss which was 
so beautiful in its long, swaying strands, but at a 
nearer view was extremely ugly. Thrown over it 
was the skin of a huge alligator. 

“ Hanging moss,” explained my host, who had 
tasted the mixture and seemed satisfied with it. 
“ There is no better bed.” 

I scarcely heard him, for the object that now 
caught my eye interested me in the highest degree. 
It was the only ornament in the room. Immedi- 
ately over the bed was fastened a silken loop of 
ribbon. The colors were faded, but the exquisite 
embroidery was wonderfully preserved. I read 
the inscription. On one end was, “To my dear 


HANGING MOSS. 


295 

Hugo. Martha.” On the other, “ Hercules and 
Omphale. September 30, 1873.” 

So Hugo Hall was my host — he who had long 
been lost to sight and was given up for dead. 

But, no ! That was scarcely possible. I had 
seen Hall many times at the beginning of the 
seventies, and also on the night of his first, his 
only success, when he appeared on the stage to 
thank the audience for their reception of his play, 
“ Hercules and Omphale.” I may pride myself 
on a good memory for faces. Not one feature in 
the face of the old man who now placed the glass 
on the table recalled the young playwright whom 
the entire house had cheered to the echo. And 
Hall was four, five years younger than I, but my 
host was surely my senior by at least fifteen 
years. 

And yet, and yet ! — as I looked at him now in 
the half light of the hut with redoubled attention, 
I almost succeeded in tracing the looked-for re- 
semblance. The height was the same — I must 
make sure. 

may perhaps have been indiscreet,” I said; 
at any rate it was unintentional. I have read the 
inscription ‘ Hercules and Omphale ’ on that loop 
of ribbon. Now I am committing an intentional 
indiscretion when I ask you. How do you come 


HANGING MOSS. 


296 

by this trophy ? A whole cycle of legends has 
sprung up concerning Hugo Hall, whom I also 
knew slightly, since his mysterious disappearance. 
Some have sent him out into the wide world, others 
have relegated him to a convent, and others still 
have buried him. So it would interest me much 
if you would tell me how you came by it.” 

“ In the simplest way in the world. It was a 
present from the girl who was to have been my 
wife,” answered Hall quietly. 

“ Then we can renew an old though slight 
acquaintance,” I said, reaching out my hand, which 
he grasped. I gave him my name. 

Yes, yes; I remember. We met at the Wels- 
heims, I think.” 

“ No ; I have never met the Welsheims, although 
we had many acquaintances in common. I had 
nothing to regret later, for the house, once so 
brilliant, came to a most deplorable end.” 

“Indeed! Yes, yes! A deplorable end ! Your 
health.” 

He handed me the glass. 

“Your health!” I answered, half emptied the 
glass and returned it to him. He drained it, dried 
his beard, and repeated, “Yes, yes, a deplorable 
end ! You see I was mistaken when I said that 
nothing human interests me now — Not very 


HANGING MOSS. 


297 

greatly — but still a little. What has become of 
Mrs. Welsheim ? ” 

“You should ask, first, what has become of Mr. 
Welsheim, for the fate of the husband decided the 
fate of the wife — Well, then, Welsheim, who 
was spoiled by an uninterrupted series of success- 
ful speculations, and never supposed that he could 
go wrong, lost all his money some ten or twelve 
years ago, ending in a scandalous bankruptcy. 
The affair was made all the worse, as many inno- 
cent people had placed entire confidence in the 
lucky speculator, and were brought down in the 
crash. Welsheim could not remain in Berlin, and 
left the country. He is probably wandering some- 
where in the East — Sopha or Bucharest. He is 
said to have tried his hand at everything without 
success.” 

“ Yes, yes — ” 

“ His wife, the once-renowned beauty, brave in 
misfortune, separated from her husband, who lost 
with his money the only hold he had on her. Peo- 
ple say that she returned to her parents. At any 
rate, she did not stay long with them. A few 
months later she showed herself at Ostend in very 
questionable society and in her customary striking 
costumes. She displayed the most extravagant 
luxury there, and later in Paris, which was de- 


HANGING MOSS. 


298 

frayed by the pockets of various unprejudiced 
young men of the world. But that did not last 
long. With her rapidly fading charms, the life of 
luxury ended of itself. And suddenly she turned 
virtuous. The faded beauty married a withered 
tenor — a certain Vallini — whose name you may 
have formerly heard. The man, after a short year 
of unheard-of triumphs, lost his voice in conse- 
quence of a severe illness. A tenor without a 
voice! Do you know anything sadder? And 
since then he has carried on a miserable existence, 
appearing on ever smaller provincial stages. A 
friend of mine met him somewhere last autumn — 
at Elbing, I think it was — on a warm September 
day, in a dilapidated fur coat — the remnants of 
former grandeur — and on his arm his chastened 
wife, the once celebrated society woman, now with 
care-worn features, who prepares his morning cof- 
fee in the tin coffee-pot, and receives blows for 
thanks.” 

“Yes, yes — blows!” repeated Hall, and again 
a fleeting smile played about his mouth. 

In the mean while we had stepped out into the 
open air. “ I must begin to think of getting back 
to my car,” I said. “ My people don’t know what 
has become of me, and may be anxious if I remain 
away too long. Will you grant me a favour? 


HANGING MOSS. 


299 

Come with me and dine with us. Our coloured 
cook is not at all bad.” 

“ Ah, no,” answered the old man — “ ah, no ! 
You must excuse me; lam not for such things, 
and such things are not for me. So many people 
at once — and children — Let us not think of it ! 
But, if you have nothing better to do, perhaps 
you will come again this afternoon; then, perhaps, 
you will tell me — about Vallini and his wife. 
And now go to your children. You will always 
find me here.” 

At three o’clock I returned to Hall’s log hut. 
My information of the morning had evidently 
made a stronger impression upon him than I in my 
ignorance of the facts could have suspected and 
he himself would have admitted. He was at once 
warmer and more human than at our first meeting. 
His speech, which had been monotonous and drawl- 
ing, was now vigorous, at times almost impas- 
sioned. The crater was not yet entirely extinct. 

“ Ja, wenn ein Madel zwei 
Knaben Lieb hat, 

Thut wunderselten Gut. 

Das haben wir Beide erfahren 
Was falsche Liebe thut ” — 

So he began as we sat again together on the step 
of his hut, smoking — opposite the giant trees. 


300 


HANGING MOSS. 


veiled and smothered in the hanging moss. And 
he told me the story of his love for Leonie, and 
his infidelity to Martha, which I have already told 
in detail. 

“ Do you see that hanging moss ? It has fast- 
ened itself to the strongest trees. It has taken 
light and air from them. The trees still stand, but 
life is gone. I still stand. But is this a life, with- 
out air and light ? But still I am satisfied with it. 
I am at least alone. Good-bye. This day will fur- 
nish me for a long time with food for thought. I 
shall have long to meditate upon it — perhaps until 
the end. Good-bye ! ” 

We shook each oltier heartily by the hand. 

The sun already hung low, and touched the 
boughs and underbrush with flecks of gold. The 
waving greyish veil which swayed slowly in the soft 
breeze, in stately and unspeakably melancholy ca- 
dence, now seemed to be interwoven with golden 
threads. As I turned for a last time towards the 
old man, before entering the underbrush, he waved 
his hand once more, and then pointed up to the 
beautiful but fatal veiling of the trees, now 
shimmering in unearthly loveliness. 


THE END. 


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